My Katyonak
by RebelliousWolf
Summary: A Russia x reader love story based off Hetalia. The chapters may take a rated M turn, but not immediately. You land a part-time job as an assistant for an Alfred Jones. Things begin taking an interesting turn when you encounter...unique people, especially a tall Russian man.
1. Chapter 1

[I don't have an exact setting, but somewhere in America]

"Why do you think this job is suitable for you?" asked the dirty blonde man who greedily chomped in his burger.

You waited, wondering if he is going to pay attention to your answer or not. He looks up from his meal after a few seconds of silence and you awkwardly adjust your chair. In previous interviews, usually they were conducted in the building you might be employed in, but it greatly confused you when Alfred Jones requested to meet in a McDonalds.

"Oh, I enjoy organizing files," you repeat the requirements on the resume, although there wasn't much. "I'm willing to stay over night when needed, and I can multi-task if ne-"

He gulps down his burger and extends his hand out, "GREAT! You're hired!"

You stare at his hand, "Wha-What? Really? What about the other applicants?" He returns a confused look, "Everyone else who applied?" You had little doubt you would get a call concerning this job since it gave a surprisingly high amount of pay for sitting at a desk and arranging documents, files. And, that you hardly had much job experience.

"Oh, once I saw someone applied I took the application down!"

 _That's not how it works. But that means..._

"So I really got the job?" you bounce a little with excitement.

"Ah, right! I'm supposed to ask if you can drive?"

You stop bouncing, "Yes, sir!"

He crumples the burger wrappers, "All right! Go to this building at four today!" He shoves his hand in his jacket to pick out a drawn map and a list. A long list, "Stop by these places to pick up some beverages, please before you come to the building! I know it's a lot..." You gape at the amount of names and detail of drinks varying from tea to coffee, "You think you can handle it? As your first task?"

"Uhm, ye-yes!"

"Great! See you in an hour," he grabs your hand for a quick shake and rushes out the door. You then realize it was almost three o'clock and scurry out to your car while locating the stores on your phone.

...

The difficult part of the task was driving carefully for the drinks not to spill. You deeply sigh with relief and feel accomplished as you parallel parked in front of the conference building with a vintage design, held by columns and standing two stories high. Then, you realize Mr. Jones did not give you the exact location inside the building. "I'll figure it out," as you exit the car you shiver as the winter air hits your face, and struggle to balance about six cup holders in your arms. The sloshing of the liquids made you nervous, especially when the stack limited your vision.

You whimper as you shuffle against the sidewalk to gently close the door when you feel half the weight taken, "Good afternoon." Your eyes travel from the drinks taken from you, to the face of your savior. You shrunk at the tall stranger who wore a long coat, scarf, and had his light blonde hair combed back. "Do you need help?"

 _What an accent!_

"Oh, if it doesn't trouble you, sir!" you blush.

He sighs, "It's okay, one of these is probably mine. It must have been troublesome for you to retrieve these."

"N-No, it's part of my-"

"Ciao Germany!" you both turn to see a cheery brunette man making his way towards you. He motioned to the tall gentleman, but circled around to approach you, "Ciao bella, nice to meet you, I'm Italy! You're so pretty, are you free later? Can I have your-"

The drinks are shoved into his arms, and the remaining cup holders from yours are retrieved by the gentleman. "Excuse my friend, he does not have any manners, miss...?"

"_, I'm basically doing desk work for...Mr. Jones? And, I guess that included errands like these," the three of you start heading up the stairs. You open the door for your helpful companions, "Thank you for carrying the drinks." You peek inside and gaze at the open space where the floors were carpeted red and the chandelier above sparkled. A two way staircase hid your view of whatever is waiting for you at the top.

"No trouble for a bella like you!" chimed Italy. You begin walking on the right staircase, grasping the rails firmly.

"Yes, it's no trouble at all. Oh, my name is Ludwig, miss _, but you can call me Germany." He tenses a smile.

Italy laughs, "Don't be so stiff Germany!" He leans in to your ear, "Sorry, he's a little inexperienced when interacting with bellas."

"Shut it."

As you drew nearer you begin to hear a clamor of different voices, each having a unique accent. You gulp when reaching the top and sigh when seeing it came behind two large rectangular Victorian doors. A small desk with a small vase holding a red rose stood at the side. Papers are stacked at the corner as a single pen rests on the pile. "Well, I guess this is where I work," you motion yourself to the empty wide wooden seat.

"Ciao, bella! I hope I see you after the meeting!" Germany opens the door for him and gives an awkward smile, before the door closed you hear Italy, "France! Was that you who gave the rose? How did you know the assistant would be a girl?"  
"I just know," a creeper laugh followed with the statement.

You stare at the rose with caution for five seconds and then began sorting the papers.

...

You regret not bringing any of your books to study as the meeting carried on to their third hour. The documents were mainly complaints from England, or Arthur, first concerning politics to petty things such as the way America spoke or stood during meetings. The first hour you heard the booming voice of America, which was then overpowered by a clamor of various speakers. The crowd was immediately hushed by Germany's exploding yell. That was about the time you finished organizing and wasted an hour walking around the stairs, swinging your legs on your chair and twiddling with the rose. You slump back down on the chair as you hear the doors creak open.

Italy was the first to pop his head out the door and greet you, "Ciao, _!" He leans over the front of your desk close to your face, "How are you?"

You back away nervously blushing, "I-I'm good. What did you you all talk about, the meeting was about three hours long." People of different nationalities exited the door, most unaware of your presence, absorbed in their thoughts or another conversation.

"I have no idea! I slept right in the beginning!" A hand came out of no where and took hold of Italy's shoulder, "Oh, brother France!"

"Bonjour!" his hair was shoulder length, but gracefully flowed as his blonde locks shone in the chandelier's light. He winks and takes your hand, "What a beautiful flower."

"Oh, the rose, yeah, it's very pretty, thank you."

"I wasn't talking about the rose," the edges of your lips twitched as you smiled, since you weren't used to such attention.

Before you could respond he is head locked by a messy haired man, dressed in a formal suit with furry brows. "Bloody hell, can't you control yourself around any woman at any time?! I'm sorry, ma'am, if he offended you in any way."

"None at all," America appeared at your side. "Oh, I organized these complaints by country."

You give England's pile first, "Awesome!" He flips through them, and then dumps it in the trash, "Wow! I'll definitely consider those points!"

"YOU NITWIT I WROTE SPECIFI-" America plugged his ears with his fingers and sang a random song loudly and ran down the stairs as England ran after him along with France.

Italy slyly slipped a napkin in the other complaints, and written on it was "Not enough pasta ):" A man dressed in Japanese clothing shyly placed his complaint neatly above Italy's napkin and bowed. Germany handed in an organized binder and took out a note pad, "Ahem, I'm sure America did not address your duties clearly in your application, so here are a few. You are to keep track of who enters the conference and make sure everyone leaves, as well as locking this door."

"I don't have the-" he places an old looking key on his binder.

"I'll have more errands for you when we meet tomorrow at 8 a.m."

"8 a.m.?" you squeak. "Well, I guess I can skip my language class..."

"You're in college?"

"Part-time student."

"Which language?"

"Italian."

Germany gestures to Italy, "Perfect. I'll also bring a coffee maker and coffee grounds. It'd be more convenient. Good night, I hope you drive home safely."

"Wow, how formal!" Italy watches as you and Germany end with a firm shake. "Ciao, Bella!"

You swing the key ring around with your finger and enter the room to shut the lights. Your eyes traveled along the oval table and the amount of chairs in the room when they pass by a figure. He sat at the way end of the table with his face buried in his arms. As you circle the table slowly, you notice his silver locks and hear soft breathing. As you stood behind him you notice his broad back and shoulders, although it may be just his coat. You extend your hand, take it back when he snorted, and then tried once more. Softly, with a shaking hand you place your hand on his shoulder and move him a little.

No response.

"Hello?" you shake him a little rougher. "Sir, the meeting is ov-" a black gloved hand snatched your hand and the individual rose. His height made you shake as he was taller than Germany and made you look down at your trapped hand. You shut your eyes and gather up courage to strike back with your free hand.

 _Aim for the neck? Nose? SHIT._

The grip loosened, "Oh," a soft deep voice. You peek and are caught in these violet eyes, and as you stared longer you realize he's actually pretty darn cute. Although the smile does not convince you it sent color to your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't think the meeting would go on for so long that I actually fell asleep."

 _Oh sure, apologize for sleeping and not scaring the crap out of me._

"It ended a while ago, so everyone left..." he still had hold of your hand and you uncomfortably wriggle it.

"Oh," he let go. He looks one way to scratch his cheek, and then looks back at you, "Who are you?"

 _I should be asking the same question._

"I'm _. A part-time assistant for America...and you are?"

"Russia," he turns to exit the room and you follow behind after shutting the lights off. One door closed as the other scraped against the ground, you grunt as you pull the handle. The same gloved hand that made you freeze reached over and took a hold of the handle. You react by letting go and backing up...onto his chest. He didn't respond and continued to pull the door shut without displaying any effort. Although you stood between the door and Russia for a few seconds your heart could not stop pounding as he moved towards the stairs. Your hand squeezed the the handle as you steadied your breaths and waited for the sounds of his steps to recede.


	2. Chapter 2

"7:30 a.m., if I cut through this street I might make it before 8," you muttered to yourself while locking your apartment door. No matter how

"Good morning bella!" you hear two honks and turn to see Italy sitting happily in his small red car with the roof retracted. Someone groaned and lifted his head from the back seat, "Are you okay Japan?"

"Good morning, what are you doing here Italy?" your bag bounced as you approached the car.

"To pick you up of course!" he stretches himself from the driver's seat to open the passenger door. "The resume had your address on it, and America wanted you to be picked up and I volunteered! Your apartment is near the hotel most of us are staying in."

"I should have ridden with Germany," cried Japan as he huddled in fetal position.

"Are we going to make it on time? It takes about thirty minutes to arrive at the conference hall," as your question ended Italy stepped on the acceleration pad and raced down the street. "OH SHIT!"

"I can get us there in five minutes!" the tiny car zoomed down the street along with the screams of you and Japan.

...

It took ten minutes of speeding to arrive at the building. Although his driving was terrifying his parallel parking came out better than yours ever did. You and Japan excitedly collapse out of the car as Italy skips to the entrance. "Oh boy I'm so happy I get to teach you Italian than attend the meeting!" he burst through the doors, "GERMANY WE'RE HERE!"

You hear Japan mumbling as he tried his best to compose himself and walk with his back straight. Instead of rushing upstairs, Italy ran to the open doors at the middle of the stairs. To your surprise, there was a sparkling white kitchen, and Germany in an apron. The kitchen was not only bright from indoor lighting, but from the huge window at the end. Rectangular tables were lined up from the entrance to the window. To Italy and Japan it seemed like a normal sight, but for you to see buff Germany in an apron, preparing pancakes is more of a shock. "Good morning."

Italy leans over, "Are you making crepes Germany?"

"No, it's obviously pancakes!" he flips one in the air and places it on the mountain of pancakes you did not notice before. There were at least three rectangular tin pans filled up with the thin pastry. "I was going to make wurst, but most have a sweet tooth."

"Pancakes, syrup, blueberries, strawberries," Italy drooled. "Ahh, Germany is amazing!"

You begin gathering the bowls and utensils into the sink and reached to turn the faucet, but someone spun you around. "Bonjour. You do not need to worry about those dirty dishes, leave it to someone else. Spain! Your hands are already dirty!"

A shaggy hair brunette with a basket of tomatoes and paper grocery bags entered the room, "I do need the sink to be clear in order to wash these tomatoes...Romano?"

Another man who looks similar to Italy followed Spain in with his nose in the air, "No wa-" he paused when he saw you and immediately whispered something in Italy's ear. "Hmph, all right," he nudged you aside and started on the dishes. "Only because I'm a pretty nice guy...A-AND I LOVE TOMATOES!"

"That's my big brother, Romano," explained Italy.

"Buenos dias!" greeted Spain and joined Germany at the stove. "Move over Germany I wanna make churros!"

"It's not breakfast without whip cream!" France dug in one of the grocery bags to take out a can of cream. "Let's make crepes instead!"

"PASTAAA!"

You watch the three fight over kitchen tools, ingredients and pans, so you back away to head upstairs and open the conference room doors. You hear the clamor grow louder as you took a step down when you see America, England, and a few familiar faces run for the kitchen instead of the meeting room. You glance at your phone and see the time is 8 a.m. "...What are the damn points of holding these meetings?!" you murmur aloud.

 _I really should be in school by now..._

"Aw shit, I should be checking off the list on whose here or not," you dig in your bag for your clipboard and the list Germany gave you and check off those you knew. Your foot slipped and the only thing that ran through your mind is that... _Oh hell I'm falling._

Your clipboard is dropped and you sprawl an arm to grab the railing and once you had a hold of it with your left hand, you swung over and held it tightly with your right. _My life flashed before my eyes and it was pretty fucking boring._

"Dude, are you okay?!" footsteps trailed out from the kitchen. Your eyes were shut tight and when you opened them you first see America's concerned face, "Hey, did you fall?"

"N-No, I g-grabbed on just in time, so it's fine," you take his hand, and as you stood up you see twenty or more pairs of eyes staring at you. Your knees collapse from embarrassment. "I think I should just sit at the desk an-"

"Oh, yeah everyone!" yells America. "This is _! She's my assistant for when we hold meetings here! And online, ain't that awesome?!" He turns back at you, "You should totally come down to eat before going back to work, it's like a total buffet!"

You continue to blush and hold the rail while going downstairs. Your eyes frantically search for Russia for some reason and once you found him, Italy took you by the arm and dragged you to the kitchen. "Come on! Let's be first in line!" you pull away.

"I'll wait Italy it's fine, I still have to check everyone in first, save me a plate, uhm, per favore?"

"Si!" he surfed his way through the crowd as you moved against, apologizing and saying "Excuse me."

"Unf," was the sound you made when your head met with Russia's chest. Behind you everyone hushed, "Sorry, Russia, I was uhm-"

He continued to make that same smile. The smile you have yet to interpret is genuine or not. "Ivan," he gives the fallen clipboard to you. "You can call me Ivan," his large hand lands on your head, at the same time you swore you heard a gasp from Italy. You didn't know what else to expect as his hand stroked your head for at least two seconds and then returned to his side.

 _Badump. Badump._

You hide your red face behind the clipboard until the bustling noise returned. "A-Are you Russia's girl?" stuttered Italian number two.

"What? No! We just met yesterday!" you claim. "I don't even know much about him."

Italy shivered behind his brother, "He's so scary!"

"Sort of, but he's pretty nice, I guess..." your voice drifts off as you shyly stare at Russia's wide back ahead of you. You mutter to yourself, "Ivan..." His head twisted to your direction and so you make full eye contact with Italy, "...Hi."

"Does he not frighten you?" Romano asked with suspicion.

"He did, but doesn't he remind you of a warm teddy bear?" you look back, but are disappointed since people began to line up.

"More like a cold harsh winter in Russia!" disagreed Romano. "Do you not feel the chills?!"

You look back at your clipboard and notice you ripped half the paper from digging your pen in it...and then falling. "So, is it not common to call each other by actual names?"

"It's much easier calling everyone by country!" Italy swirled to the end of the line. "Besides saying our names are pretty...personal."

...

You dragged yourself away from the large crowd with your plate of food and plopped back on your desk.

 _Everyone are really countries? How do they get along so well? Or even tolerate each other based on history. The war between England and America, well, I guess that's why they are hostile towards each other. What about the World Wars? Amazing how they don't display their grudges... And why isn't a professional working here?! I guess I got this job out of pure coincidence, but-_

Nom.

 _Oh Jesus Christ this food is so fucking good._

You stuff another pancake covered with syrup in your mouth before going into the conference room and switching the lights on. "You wanker! You ate the last biscuit on purpose!" the yelling was trailing up the stairs.

"I did! And I didn't even enjoy it!" you hear America panting. He sees you, takes your shoulders and hides behind you, "COME AND GET ME BUSHY BROWS!" You uncomfortably move to wherever America pulled you as England tried to get around you. "YOU CAN'T CROSS THE BORDER BRO!"

"We aren't even connected you twit!"

You grab your plate of food and continue munching.

"BORDER RULES!" America still clutched your shoulders and took you inside the conference room. "Russia bro! Sit here!" he whispers to you, "He's my England repellent."

America sat Russia on his left side and you on his right and smirked proudly at his fort. _Pretty damn sure this wasn't included in the application._

"Ugh, what a bloke," groaned England as he took his seat opposite of America probably to directly yell at his face later.

...

America liked to stand up and walk around the room most of the time, so there was an empty space between you and Russia. After eating your food you took your notebook and textbook out to practice Italian. However, Italy shoved the book away and spoke pure Italian to you the whole time. As little as you knew, his teaching turned out to be better than the book, even Germany was impressed. Once, America made an exclamation following a finger at England. Your gaze went down to Russia leaning on his right hand. He acknowledges your peek with a smirk.

On the second hour, Germany restored order when England threatened America with curses. One of the Nordic states spoke up, you couldn't tell who, but he liked to drink, "C'mon let's get along now and we can hit the nearest bar and get drunk later!" he holds up his cup of coffee imagining it as a beer mug.

You continued counting in Italian to yourself while tilting your head back "Dieci...undici..."

Italy failed to stay awake.

Phrases were next on your vocabulary, "Grazie...per favore..." You glance at Russia again who seemed to also doze off, "Ti amo."

"Let's conclude today's meeting here," sighed Germany. "Really, we are supposed to be addressing politics, but the only thing we focused on was food."

"You heard the dude the meeting is over!" cheered America. He leans over and pushes a check under your elbow, "Here's the pay _!"

Your eyes widen, and body shook when you saw the payment, "I CAN'T ACCEPT THIS!" Your outburst made those who were leaving look back and Russia wake up. You take America's arm, leaving the check on the table, and whisper, "That's just way too much for two days."

"Really? But you did so much hard work."

You shook your head, your honest ate at you. "No way! I hardly worked today and yesterday! I don't think I earned this much."

"Hmm," he scratches his chin with a finger. "How about think of this as a month's payment? Don't worry about it! We'll think of things to make you feel like you worked that ass off! Anyways you see how much of a handful we are."

"B-But," Germany places the check inside the textbook Italy shoved away and holds it out. "O-Okay..." America is startled as you immediately grab his hand and shake it with both of yours, "Thank you, Mr. Jones."

America shook his head with a red face, "NO NO NO AMERICA IS FINE! OH GOD." He tries to hide his blush, "Good night!"

"So polite!" admired Japan. He bows to you, "Good night _-chan, I hope to see you soon."

"Wait Japan, do you not want a ride!" Italy asked.

"I'm going with Germany," insisted Japan as he rushed out.

Italy ran after him. You approach Germany and shake his hand as well, "Uhm, thank you, Germany."

"For vat?"

"Being so...cool?"

A tint of pink shown on his cheeks, he looks away and scratches the back of his head. "Danke, _."

You peek behind Germany to see if Russia was still sitting down. To your dismay, he wasn't.

...

You heard voices in a distant room, but it still felt weird for the building to be quiet. No one yelling, or the clanging of silverware. Just your footsteps.

You felt the weight of Germany's binders and your textbook thump on your back. When opening the door you realize and ask yourself, "Do I even have a ride home?"

The cold wind hit your face along with cloth. Instinctively, you take hold of it and see it's a scarf that leads up to, "Russia." His silver hair shone more under the sunlight and you see more color on his cheeks and his nose. His violet eyes made you shudder, and blurt out, "You have beautiful eyes."

The ends of his mouth that usually held a smile twitched. He quickly faces his back to you for a few seconds, and then returns, "W-We can be good friends, don't you think?"

You nod your head, "Y-Yeah! We can!"

 _Oh man I totally lose my composure around this guy. DAMMIT._

His face lit up making your the atmosphere feel fluffy, "Really?"

 _Don't die on me heart._

"Mhmm!"

"Wow," he pulls his sleeve to check his watch. "How about lunch?"

"Sure," he begins walking and you attempt to match his walking pace.

A minute of silence felt like an hour. You tried to think of things to ask or randomly say, but instead it resulted to your mouth opening and closing. Russia suddenly stops, "Do you not find me intimidating?"

Without thinking you respond, "Oh, no, you're like a huge teddy bear to me."

 _Beautiful eyes? Teddy bear? FUCK YOU MIND._

You clear your throat, "AHEM. I mean-"

Instead of receiving a weird look, his eyes seemed to glimmer like a kid getting a puppy for Christmas. He then stares at you and ponders, "Hm..." Before you were able to question him he pets your head, "Kotyonok!"

"Eh?"

"A kitten!"


	3. Chapter 3

"I should refund all my courses..." you grumble as your fingers furiously danced across the keyboard. After two days of silence since the last meeting, America has called and assigned you for organizing his emails. Even after missing two days of college your instructors gave warning that they will refund your classes. So far, the only class you kept up with was the online Italian class, but then again why were you learning Italian? You considered the hospitality industry, and took many courses relating to it, and had a dream of traveling to Italy. The motivation left.

Before logging into America's account, you refunded your courses.

 _I wonder how the countries feel about technology. Have they gotten used to it? Seriously, how can they stand each other in the same room? What about the Cold War? The World Wars? Or even the wars going all the way back?!_

You review an email from Italy which contained a load of emojis and a sentence at the end that said, "WOW SO COOL!" You move the message to a special folder made for him, you named it "Italy Spam."

 _The allies and the axis powers. The revolutionary war. The pain and anguish they put each other through. The lives lost._

After an hour and a half of skimming and organizing the emails in separate folders you move on to the other task America gave you, arranging and scheduling events. You also needed to message those who were invited the time and place. You check the names, "America, France, Italy, Germany, _, Russia..." You scroll up again and stare blankly at your name. "The fuck?!"

You check the location again, most of these locations were not even in America. "Double the fuck?!" A new message made your phone vibrate, and it read from America "Horror Movie Night at my place brohas! Please come I hate watching alone."

 _This is what I refunded my classes for?_ _I have to speak to America about these events, there's no way I can afford traveling from one place to another. And keep paying for this small apartment._

You shut your laptop and hop off the bed that takes up a half of the room. You dig through your small closet and dump out any type of suitable clothing for the event. So far, all you showcased yourself in was an oversized hoodie, jeans and old red converse shoes. How lame.

Your phone buzzed again, this time from Russia. "Are you also coming to see the horror movies?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then?" you slowly type back and then toss the phone on your bed, afraid for the response. You brush your hand over a simple red plaid dress you haven't found an occasion to wear for. You hear the phone buzz, but ignore it as you place your outfit together: dress, black tights, and a brown jacket with fake fur on the hoodie. It reminded you of America's jacket.

"OH. The 50 is for the states!" brain fart.

You check the event time, 6:00 p.m. And then, the time now, 4:47 p.m., well, you did wake up late, I guess it made sense. You finally check the message Russia sent, "I'll pick you up, da?"

"Eh?"

-"No, no that's not necessary!"

"Do you know America's address?"-Russia

-"No...can you tell me?"

"No, I'll just come get you."-Russia

You forgot he walked you home after the warm lunch he treated you to. "Hmph, I won't argue with him then." You pass the mirror and take a few looks at yourself: messy hair, an oversized shirt that read "Out of Stock" and polka dotted shorts. The heater was turned up, so you did not feel chilly, but you did feel hungry.

Your room's floor is two inches higher than the kitchen floor, so if you forget about it you either slipped when exiting or tripped when entering. You remembered so you survived for the day. The kitchen was only composed of a few cabinets, a five foot counter top including a sink and microwave, as well as your mini fridge. Inside were a bunch of water bottles, leftovers you have to remember to throw out, and a tiny cheesecake Russia bought you from before. You take the cake. Still creamy, sweet and delicious. There's no other way to describe it. The doorbell rang, interrupting your moment of sweet silence.

With a plastic fork in your mouth you peek out the door, at a grinning Russia, "Zdravstvujtye!" (Hello in Russian)

"Russia?! What are you doing here? It's only five!" you hide yourself with the door.

"Oh, it takes about an hour at most to get to America's house from here," he explains and gestures to a grey car. "Did you not get my text?"

"I didn't check, I'm sorry," you wonder if you should leave him outside or invite him in. "I'll meet you outside in a second!"

...

You almost copped out in wearing the dress, but selecting another outfit would have increased waiting time. He held the passenger door open and you awkwardly plant yourself in the leather seats. _New car smell. Probably rented._ The space between the passenger and driver seats is small, but the seats were large you would be able to pull your legs up and fall asleep. You clutched your messenger bag that only held your cellphone and wallet as Russia entered the car. Sitting at his side made you realize how short you were compared to him. He sees you staring with jealousy and pats your head.

Throughout the car ride you tried to keep conversation between you and Russia.

"Is winter harsh in Russia?"

"Oh yes, everything is covered in snow, and the mosques look as if they are painted white. But when the sunlight hits it everything shimmers."

"Sounds pretty...do countries have families?"

"We don't have any parents, but we do have siblings. Usually the ones who took care of us when we were a small country, or those who contributed in making us a country."

"Do you have siblings?"

"Er...yes, a big sister and little sister."

"Oh, how cute!"

"Not really..."

 _Awkward silence._

You avoided looking at him for a while, but for moment you saw his embarrassed expression with his cheeks pink, eyebrows furrowed, eyes averted, and the ends of his lips tilted downwards. It was pretty cute.

"Is...this what friends talk about?" he asked out of the blue.

You stare at the passing trees, "Uhm, well, just to get to know each other?"

"I see."

You had no idea how to phrase this question without making it sound harsh, "Do you...Uhm. Don't you have..."

"The countries are more like companions or acquaintances. I don't think we can truly be friendly considering the past, but its nice to come together. Anyways, they still are scared of me."

"Why...did you want to be my friend?"

"You seemed...approachable."

...

America's house gave off a homey warm feeling. A shingled house, a porch with a white fence and French doors. You admire the house as you wait for Russia to exit the car. Light illuminated off the snow, and although it was only six, the sky has faded into darkness. The door opened and instead of America greeting you, it was England, "Ah, hello mates." He seemed surprised by your outfit, "What a lovely attire you have on, Miss _."

"Oh, thanks, it's not that-"

England is pushed out of the way by who else, "Hey! Welco- Whoa! Digging the clothes, _!"

"Uhm."

France magically stepped in, "Oh yes, it certainly displays the body you have been hiding. Although nothing can escape from my observant ga-"

A chill crawled on your back, and the three men stepped back in fear. Before you turned around, Italy pulled you inside, "Yay! _ is here! Look Japan! Look!"

"Good evening, _-chan," Japan sat at the dining table besides Germany who was reading the back of a DVD cover.

Germany looks up at you, "Oh, good evening."

 _They're dressed so casually._

"Wow! You're so pretty! Are you wearing any makeup?" Italy asks bluntly.

"Oi! You're not supposed to ask a woman that Italy!" scolded Germany.

"My face...is just naturally like this?" you respond.

France appears once more flipping his hair, "Nothing is more stunning than natural beauty."

"C'mon guys! Let's go watch movies!" cheered America gesturing everyone to another room.

Three white couches are placed around a flat screen television as well as a sphere chair gave the room a modern feeling. A glass table sat in the middle with alcoholic beverages and soda set up. Italy immediately dominated the sphere chair, America jumped over the couch directly facing the television. You edge your way to the couch next to Italy's seat, you see France motion his way to you, but Russia found his way next to you first. You blush at his eagerness to sit next to you as France grumpily takes his seat at the couch opposite of you with England. Germany sat at the right edge of the middle couch, probably to be close to Italy too. Japan finally took the space left of America.

"So! Who's first? We got a load of new horror that came out this year!"

"Geez, why do you even plan these nights? You're terrified of horror," questioned England.

"Am not! I finally understand its all cameras and special effects! I'm up with all this junk!"

 _They're arguing again..._

You pull off your jacket and stare at Russia, "Aren't you hot in that scarf and coat?"

"Hmm? Not really, I like to be warm and cozy most of the time." You wonder how his coat would feel on you.

"Can I try your coat on? I-I'd like to see how the material feels!" you lied.

Hesitance is shown on his face, but he took the coat off anyway. On him, it reached his waist, but on you it seemed like a dress. The arm sleeves were long and covered your hands, and were baggy. You buttoned it up, and saw it covered the dress you already had on, and almost reached your knees. Like a child, you flapped your arms around smiling foolishly. For the first time you heard him chuckle, "Hold on." To complete the look he wrapped his long scarf around you, in the end, it covered half of your face, but you felt warm. "How do you feel?"

"...Warm and cozy."

"WOW!" exclaimed America. "I wanna switch clothes too! Let's get naked!"

"I agree to that!" chortled France.

Japan gripped his clothes, "Please keep this indecency to yourselves!"

"We did not come here to strip!" yelled England.

"DID SOMEONE SAY STRIP?!" Italy already had his pants off.

"Oh, Lord, what have I done?" you cover your eyes with the scarf.

"Isn't this fun?" asked Russia with no sense of awkwardness in his voice.

...

Everyone sat down when Germany randomly picked a horror flick on Netflix, "Probably the one thing I enjoy in America..." he muttered to himself.

Seeing Russia in a buttoned up shirt made you realize how built his torso must be. Since he didn't ask for his coat and scarf back you tucked your knees under the coat and huddled on the couch. He had a bored expression on his face as the horror movie played, the only one getting a scare out of the movie is Italy and America.

"Is it necessary to see her removing her clothes?" blushed Japan at the nude scene.

"Gotta have that sexual appeal sometimes!" answers America.

"I'm not complaining!" says Italy as he spun around the chair.

At first you thought that was an awkward scene, until a sex scene played out. The entwining of bodies, heavy breathing, over acted moaning. You refused to look at anyone's faces, trying to maturely handle the movie. The volume was way up, "OH!"

"Why..." groaned Japan.

"To show the depth of their relationship!" explained America. You hear this hiss of a soda can, and his loud chugging.

The second movie had a lot more screaming, but it didn't stop you from leaning your head on the couch. Well, you thought it was the couch, but it was too firm, you realize it to be Russia's arm.

 _It's too awkward to move away now... Maybe if I move slowly..._

He didn't move his arm, nor did you move your head. Such comfort you found in this man you met only this week is strange, but it didn't bother you. You stole his jacket, scarf, and now his arm. What next?

 _Does he not care?!_

You remember the conversation you had with him during lunch.

 _"How is it like being a country?"_

 _"To be honest...it's pretty lonely."_

 _"How so?"_

 _"...we are unable to hold relationships."_

 _"Don't you have each other?"_

 _"No, the other kind of relationships... It's a burden."_

You stop leaning on his arm as the conversation in your mind ended. "Oh! America can I speak to you for a second?"

"Totes magotes!" he hopped off the couch and followed you in the hallway. "What's up? Need to pee?"

"No! It's just these events that are in a different location they have my name in it. Maybe someone made a mistake in adding me in the list?"

"Hmm? Nope! You're coming along!"

"Okay, why is this relationship with you countries more personal than business?" you make your palm straight and face it at America, but it is covered with the sleeves. "I appreciate being included in this activities, but I don't understand!"

America sighs, "Look, after World War II, everyone was pretty broken apart. Trust me, the conference meetings were pretty intense back then. Everyone's economy, especially Italy's had a hard time picking themselves up. We all lost something even though the allies won. I just want to patch things up."

"What does that have to do with me? Your assistant?"

"Do you not want to travel?"

"It's not that. I just don't deserve it."

"Do you not like us?"

"I already really like you guys."

"Then, accept these random opportunities."

"You really don't have an answer to my question? Anyone could be in my place?"

"...Yes, but you're here already. That's not changing unless you want it to. You are in control of anything. But do know if it gets serious, you will be involved. So far, everything is great, right?" He gave off a big brother feeling as he places a hand on your shoulder, "Don't worry! It's better you work with us than our bosses." He places a hand on your shoulder and turns you back to the room. "It's your choice whether you want to make this personal or business," he pauses, "But It probably isn't a good choice make the relationship more than friends. Although, even if anyone can be where you are right now, Russia probably wouldn't take interest in just anyone."

You furiously flush, "Why would you say that?"

He nudges you playfully with his elbow as you two enter the room, "Oh c'mon!"

"Friendly conversation?" asks England curiously with an eyebrow raised.

You snort, "With this nerd? Nah."

Italy whined out of the blue, "I'm hungry!"

England cleared his throat with a smirk and stood up, "Well, I guess I'll go prepare us some-" America threw the remote right at his forehead, "BLOODY BUGGERING HELL!"

"Hell no! I'd rather settle for whatever is expired in the back of my fridge! What do you prefer _?"

"I'm always up for Japanese food."

You see Japan's eyes light up, but America pulled him down, "Nah, Japan's portions are so small! I'll never get full!"

"You hardly get full," commented France.

"I think I heard someone say pasta!" Italy jumped out of his chair and started pulling Germany's arm, "Grocery store! Let's go! Come with us _!"

"Oh, okay hang on," you turn back to Russia who fell asleep. You sadly unwrap the scarf and slowly place it around his neck, as you stood up you noticed everyone else watching silently. "...I'm keeping this coat on," you said and ran out the room.

"I'd ask you to get sugar but I'm sure you got enough sitting on that couch," grinned America. Although this guy was your quote "boss" he was asking for a smacking, so you flicked the back of his head. "Nyeh!" England approved with a thumbs up.


	4. Chapter 4

Italy rode in the cart as Germany begrudgingly pushed it. Japan went over the list he made in the car for Italy's pasta and whatever side dishes Germany had in mind. You just wanted to be a part of the fun. And, plus you knew the cheapest grocery stores with good quality. Japan gaped at the prices, and gasped even more at the Asian products loaded on the aisle. You kept your eye on him since Germany already had Italy to handle. "They aren't top quality though."

"Still, these prices are amazing," he took a packet of miso soup.

You shrug, "I'm sure they are, but I'm certain having the food made where it originated from makes all the difference. I've tried a bunch of sushi restaurants, but I'd love to see Japan at least once."

He stares at you with a smile, "Don't worry I'll make sure that happens." You both hear Italy and Germany fighting over the type of meat to buy, "Ah...anyways is there any reason you love Japanese food in particular?"

"I love the culture in particular and even studied Japanese in high school," he gapes at you. "Oh, yeah, I speak a little Japanese, but it's embarrassing."

"No, not at all! Feel free to practice on me. What inspired you?"

You turn your head away, "Well...ahem." A big inhale, you must say your reason with pride, "Anime."

"...Anime? Wh-Which kind?!" you feel as if you turned on the fanboy switch in him.

You both start exchanging anime genres, titles, crushes until Germany and Italy return. "Mein gott...we leave you two alone for a few minutes and Japan has converted you," said Germany. Italy hugged his pasta boxes happily, "By the way can you teach me how to use this...Word, and Powerpoint?"

"What? I'm sorry, I assumed you would know how to use these programs already."

"Technology has advanced really fast when you think about it,I haven't adapted quite yet," he puts on an embarrassed face. You pat his back.

Italy begins placing the items on the counter. The cashier doesn't seem bothered, but she tried to hold back her grin. On the ride over to the grocery store you sat at the backseat with Japan, but did not have any need to strike a conversation with him. So it surprised Italy and Germany in the front when the two of you broke out in Japanese and gushed about anime. Favorite animators, manga, movies, characters, it's been a while since you found someone to unload your inner otaku on.

After placing the groceries on the table at America's house you pause everyone, "Hold up, it's too quiet."

Germany takes a switchblade out from God who knows where, "Stay here."

Instead of obeying his orders all three of you lined up behind him. However, you all actually stay behind as he enters the room first, only to come out and say, "The bastards got drunk." Japan, Italy and Germany casually make their way back to the kitchen as you look inside.

"OH MY GOD WHO'S YELLING?!" slurred America.

Britain is purely knocked out cold on the floor with his back against the couch even though you only count two beer cans. France awoke from America's yell, and titters, he looks at the empty wine bottle held in his hand, nods at it with a drunken look and falls back asleep. America laid sprawled on the couch as Russia, well, awake and to your surprise looked damn sober. He held one of the random magazines America had on the table and when he noticed you he asked smoothly, "Back so soon?"

"Not soon enough," you start picking up the mess the men, or boys, left on the ground. "Did you drink?"

"Oh yeah, I had some shots of Smirnoff vodka," he points at a 1/3 empty bottle on the table.

You cringe at vodka, it burned down your throat, is strong and had a bitter, sour taste alone. "Are you sober?"

"It takes more to get me as drunk as these three," he realized you are still wearing his coat. "...Do you want to keep that?"

"Oh, oh no!" You take the garment by the collar and open it up with the intention of slipping it off easily with both arms.

Apparently, from behind, it looked like you were flashing Russia. You heard a gasp, and England exclaim, "Oh blimey!"

You look back and see Japan with a red face, "I-It's too soon in the story line to be doing those kinds of things!"

Immediately, you take the coat off causing Japan to think you stripped yourself nude as he covered his face. "Senpai no! See? I'm covered."

He sighs in relief, "Oh thank goodness." He leaves the room feeling dirty minded.

"Sorry," you hand the coat back to Russia, "It was...really comfy. Totally would consider buying one! Thank you."

"I'll buy you one as comfortable as this when I return to Russia," there comes that fluffy atmosphere again.

"N-No, it's okay really!"

"Food's almost ready!" chimed Italy from the kitchen.

"Want to help me wake up these guys?" You watch Russia loom over France. His shadow must give a menacing since France woke up, screamed, and kicked England's head.

"AUGH YOU!" whether he was hangover or not England had the strength to pounce back.

Their tussle made enough noise to rouse America up, before he can tell them to shut it you told him food is waiting. You and Russia follow behind as France and England sluggishly used the walls to balance themselves. Light leaked from the kitchen into the dark hallway with a sound of glass clinking against each other. Inside Italy danced around the table setting plates down as Japan laid utensils next to them. Germany stood at the sink washing the pots and pants they have used. In the middle is a pot of spaghetti decorated with tomato sauce and meatballs along with deep fried balls with a sauce and garlic bread. "Wow, what are those?" you point at the fritters.

"Reuben bites," Germany wipes his hands on his apron. You assume it's America's since the apron's design is the American flag. "It's basically meat and cheese, but I promise it tastes delicious."

America brings out another apron, "Hey bro why didn't you wear this one?"

"Because it has a naked torso on the front!"

"It's muscular though so it's not as different as when you are shirtless," commented Italy. You whirl the other way trying to not let your imagination run off, but you felt your cheeks light up, so you covered them.

You felt hands on your shoulders and you look up at Russia, "Don't worry, it's not as different when I'm shirtless."

Your face rapidly went red as your mind goes blank. "Uh...ehm," you stretch an arm out to find a chair. "I-I, n-nice..."

"Would you like to see me shirtless?" asked France already proceeding to unbutton his shirt.

America threw the apron at him, "C'mon let's eat already!"

...

You open your eyes expecting to see the usual view of your room, but as soon your sight cleared up, you notice staring at an empty couch. Sitting up, you realize you never left America's house and slept on one of the couches in the television room. No one was around. The blanket someone placed on you slipped off as you scooped up your bag and tugged on your shoes. After tugging your jacket on you begin walking towards the kitchen. Tiptoeing, you hear America's voice in the distance, "Yes, I will get right on it, sir." The living room, you place your cheek against the cold brick wall and see him talking on the phone. "Yes, sir, the documents are here," you hear the rustle of paper and a sigh. "I will meet you then, sir, thank you." The phone clicks and America scratches the back of his head. "Man, and I thought I was free today," he spoke in his casual voice.

"America," you spoke up. "Sorry, I guess I dozed off on the couch when we went back to watching movies..."

"Oh, no problem! No one wanted to wake up that beautiful drooling face of yours," he teased as he walked over to the kitchen area.

"I wish you did," you hear keys jingle. "I'll, see myself out then."

"What? Lemme drop you off!"

"N-No! My school is nearby it's like a fifteen minute walk from here, I need to go finish up some paperwork," you open the door.

His arm wraps around your back as he pushes you out to his car, "Oh, please, I'll get you there in two minutes. Plus it's freezing! Check it out! Snow is everywhere."

The car warms up as you take a look around, it has snowed. It isn't even the mushy snow, it actually is the snow you see in Christmas movies. A snowman stood at the front of the porch. You, Italy and Japan made one after dinner. It was a fun night.

...

It was a short car ride, but it could have been a long walk. You wave goodbye and thank America as he drives in another direction. The college at eight in the morning continued to be bustling with students who had early morning classes. It is also the best time to line up at the office. It is considered a small college, and although the buildings had three floors it stretched to about five to six stories and connected around a courtyard. You always liked walking in the courtyard, trees stretched nearly as high as the buildings, and when it was fall, the leaves shone red and orange. Now, they are bare, sleeping. The flowers near the office have fallen asleep too to your disappointment.

You touch the handle, about to open it, when you hear a sharp sound. You froze for a second, discovering what it was, and instantly whipped out your cell phone and dialed the three numbers. You take a quick glance through the glass door to see if people were doing the same thing, they were. So, it wasn't in that building, then where?

"911 what's your emergency?"

"I-"

You hear another shot, but it made your ears ring this time. "Fuck," you hastily look around and start hearing screaming from the building in front of you. "Gunshots heard at-"

Students and faculty burst out of the doors as you turn to start running to the parking lot as well, but all of a sudden. Rapid fire. You drop to your knees and lie on your stomach, but you cried out as your face scraped against the cold rough ground. You then realize, the pain wasn't coming from your face, but your waist. You were afraid to turn over, but you heard whimpers behind you and someone uncontrollably bawling. Your heart couldn't stop thumping loudly as your breathing went rapid.

He is wearing boots, you can hear him motioning his way closer and closer. Each step made your breath tighten, "SHUT UP!" he yelled at the one crying. You cautiously turn your head and see a young woman being held down by her friend who tries to cover her mouth. You gasp at the body next to her, dying the ground with red. You then hear the police woman's voice from your phone loud and clear.

"Ma'am?"

You freeze as he cocks his head at you.

"Ma'am, are you still there?"

"Fuck." You didn't dare to grab the phone, but he still walked up and tossed it away with his foot.

"Roll over," he commanded.

Using your hands, you tried to push yourself over, but there was a stinging pain on your left side. You didn't want to roll using your right side though, because that is where he stood. "Ah!" you try moving as quickly as possible, but everything screamed how painful it is. Yet, you did it, you rolled onto your back, panting heavily, unable to see your wounds. He looked as normal as any other college kid did. He was dressed in a white collared shirt, it surprisingly had no sight of blood as well as his black pants, unless you couldn't see it. His face, however, had no emotion.

"That your phone?" he points with the gun in his right hand.

"Yes."

"You know," he spoke so normally, "I am a pretty good shot." He spins around checking if everyone was still on the ground. You felt the tears welling up and pouring down your cheeks. Helplessly, you look up at the sky, it was hardly blue, more like grey. "I hardly miss, and I don't want to ruin the record I have going on now." He kneels with one knee and presses the cold metal at your forehead, "I hope you unde-"

You shut your eyes, but hear a struggle and a clatter. You open them to see America attempting to pin the boy's hands down, and when he succeeded, he flipped him over with a hand clutching his wrists. You see everyone standing up, and people coming out of the buildings. You hear students crying whether because they were scared or lost someone.

You turn your head away, touch your left side, feeling raw skin, knowing the bullet ripped through your dress, and lift your fingers up. To no shock there is blood. It must have been a graze, but it hurt so fucking much. A student tried sitting you up, but you fell on your right side and groaned, refusing to move as more people tried to encourage you. You feel yourself scooped up and lifted. His hand gripped your shoulder and your legs securely and you felt safe.

"America..." your wounded side pressed against his stomach. "Your shirt will get stained..." you look up instead to see, "Russia?"

"Are you okay, my kotyonok?"

"I just want to go home."


	5. Chapter 5

You hated hospitals, and insisted to not go to one. Russia didn't want to force you, but convinced you to come back to the hotel Germany is staying in to get your wounds treated. At first, Italy and Germany invited you two inside casually, until Russia sat you down and showed the large blood stain you left on his coat. Italy ran to your side crying, grabbing a hotel face wash with water to wipe it as Germany emptied his luggage case for a first aid kit. Italy takes a blanket off the bed and wraps it around your waist.

Shyly, you lift your dress. The graze is right in the middle of your hip and breast, and as you hold the dress up you feel the dried blood. Germany placed glasses on and took the wet towel from Italy to wipe away the dried blood. He smiles, "You'll be fine, no stitches required, the bleeding has stopped as well." He starts digging through his kit.

"Germany knows how to dress wounds properly! He's always doing it for me," reassures Italy.

"You have anymore scrapes?" you check your palms noticing the skin peeled off and raw when you fumbled on the ground. You show your hands to Germany, "You also have a scratch on your cheek." You see him pour a little bit of soap and water over another towel before he starts wiping your palms, cheek, and wound. "Rubbing alcohol is actually bad for the wound," he explained.

 _Thank god._

"How did...you get there Russia?" you ask as Germany gently places bandages on your hands.

"Honestly, I was walking to the conference building, and America stopped me to offer a ride, that's when we heard the shots from the school."

Italy holds up different band aid boxes to you, "Hearts? Smiley faces? Oh! I'll give you the Italian flag!" He places the green, white and red band aid on your cheek happily.

Germany starts to dress your main wound, "You should probably get your coat washed quickly Russia."

"Oh, it's okay, I know how to get blood stains off clothing," he responds, but proceeds to take the coat off. "I'm going to rinse it though."

"There," Germany begins to put his gauze away.

"Thank you so much," you stare blankly at your hands. "I hope there are not a lot of casualties."

"I hope so too," says Germany.

Italy kneels before you and squeezes your hand with big concerned eyes, "Are you feeling okay?"

"Y-Yes," your lips tremble and you squeeze his hand back. "I-I'm o-okay," you remember the feeling of the gun against your head. Your sobs trickled out in small spurts as you whispered, "I almost died." You wrap your arms around Italy and buried your head in his neck as he rubbed your back. You hear the door open and close, but continue to hold him.

You trembled as he softly said, "You're safe."

...

You stared at yourself with only your bra, tights and underwear on in the bathroom. Your dress was tossed at the side. You didn't want to look at it any longer. Did not want to attempt to sew it up, just throw it away. Russia came back to give you a beige coat which Germany gaped at asking why he kept it for such a long time. His response was that he couldn't just give it away. You tug it on, seeing that it nearly reached your ankles and button it up. Italy's flag waved back at you in the mirror and you giggle to yourself. You scoop up the dress and fold it tight.

"What were you thinking Russia, it's huge on her!" exclaimed Germany.

"I love it!" you still had arm flaps and spun around with it until you hit the corner of the couch on your bad side. "Fuck, fuck me."

"Stay still!" scolded Germany. "Don't be like Italy," he returns to talking in a gentle voice as you sat down on the couch next to Russia.

"I wore that mostly during the 1900's," said Russia. He pets your head, "It looks cute on you as a dress. Do you want to go home now?"

You sit up immediately, "Y-Yes." You hold out a hand to shake Germany's hand, but he grasps your shoulder and pats your head. Italy gave a loving hug before you left with Russia.

...

"_!" you are astounded to see America waiting at your doorsteps. He grabs both your shoulders and looks over you, "Are you okay?! Sorry I didn't check on you, I wanted to keep the guy down until the police arrived."

"Dude, it's fine, you're a total hero," you give him a one second hug. "Thank you so much," you voice begins to shake again. "H-He was, the gun, uhm..." you suck it up and blink your eyes, "Thank you."

"Don't worry, that's what heroes are for!" he pats your back. "Here," he returns your cellphone. "Take as much time as you want to recover," he walks to his car.

"Oh, Russia, I can return this coat right away, would you like to come inside for a bit?"

He looks at you with eagerness, "O-Okay."

"It's really small," you warn and dig for your key in your bag that had the dress stuffed inside.

 _Click._

As you enter the hallway slash kitchen you realize you had no seats whatsoever, the only chair you had was in your room. "Well, uhm, sorry there's a chair in my room," you hop over the ledge and wait for Russia to step inside. You stare down and see him being totally unaware of the elevated ledge, "W-Wait!" He caught himself by holding onto the frames of the doorway, but his lips brushed against your forehead when lunging forward. "Sorry, sorry! Please sit!" you grab the chair from your desk and motioned him towards it. You grab a random shirt and long pants and run to your bathroom to change.

Coming back you see him flipping through an history book you kept around during high school, sitting on your bed. You place the coat next to him and pull the chair in front, backwards, and lean on the back support. You see him turning the pages to the tabs you left on, "The westernization of Russia was one of my favorite units. I don't know why. Maybe because Peter the Great was so ambitious."

He chuckles and he points at a sentence stating how Peter would personally cut beards off, "I remember. He was already an ambitious young boy. He played dangerously though with real cannons and battle formations." He frowns when he flips to the next tab, "I remember the Romanov family too." He stares with sorrowful eyes at a family picture printed in the book, "Those children were innocent." He decided not to look past those pages and shuts the book, "I'm sorry, I was just curious." He places the coat on his arm and stands up, "I hope you sleep well, _."

"Uhm," you walk behind him as he shows his way out. "W-Wait," you tug on his arm coat as he steps outside. You decided not to wait for him to turn around and slip your hands through his arms and hold your wrists. Your right cheek pressed against his large back, despite him claiming to be as buff as Germany his back felt soft. You feel him stiffen at this surprise hug, but did not loosen your grip. Just like a teddy bear. You held him for about five seconds and let go. You didn't wait for him to look back as you take a step backwards in the apartment and quickly say, "Bye!"

You peek through the door hole like a creeper seeing that he still stood there. He moves his hand towards his face and you see a shade of red on his cheeks. You slide down against the door trying to hold your girlish squeal in.

 _What are you doing? He's a country._

You sigh listening to his car start and touch your bandaged side. "...so much shit happened today."

...

"Day four of being a house hobo," you talk to yourself as bacon sizzled in your pan. Four days have passed since the incident, four smooth boring days. The mail has been organized, flights checked, and room cleaned. The only time you stepped out was to fill your sad mini fridge and cabinets up with snacks, bacon, rice and whatever you grabbed.

You hear a knock on the door, "Mail!"

"You can slip it through the door thingy!" you yelled from the stove and turned the fire off after placing the bacon on napkins.

"I-I don't think I can for this one ma'am."

"Hm?" you approach the door carefully and peek out the hole seeing a white bear with a red scarf. Immediately you open the door and the mail man places it in your hands. It appeared to be about half your size and as you hold it, it felt as if your hug was being returned by it's fluffy arms. After thanking him you grab your phone and see a message from Russia.

"Hope you like him, my Kotyonok."

...

"Day fucking seven of being a house hobo," a week already. You yawn and check your cork board, "G8 meeting? Did you send the emails out?" you ask yourself. "Yeah, two days ago...Russia's going to be there..."

You hop out of bed excited to try on the new clothes you bought for conference meetings. Formal ones, lady-like, boring. On the models they looked slimming and beautiful, but on you it seemed awkward. Their legs were much longer than yours, and they wore heels. You bought heels, but only two inch ones. Any more and you'd find yourself crying.

A black pencil skirt covering up to your knees and a long sleeved white blouse with a cute bow around the neck satisfied your taste. You roll on the bed pulling your black tights on, then the skirt, then the blouse and a thick grey cotton sweater. You stare in the mirror with your hair nice and brushed, and your heels giving you two more inches of confidence. Completing the look you put a black and white plaid scarf around your neck and the glasses you thought you lost. You smile at yourself, "I'm so hot I can kiss myself."

The stiletto heels click as you made your way outside, "Bye Ivan!" You wave the bear sitting on your bed a farewell. Your handbag is the least formal thing you carried, but it was the largest to carry your prints and laptop. Although it didn't match your outfit, it was decorated with Sakura trees and a calico cat at the bottom left corner.

For once, you felt good, until the cold wind ruffled through your hair. You look at your reflection in the car window, "Dammit, why can't nature let me look good at least one time."

...

You sat in the car, the clock inside said 10:01 a.m. You came one hour early in order to prepare the conference room for them once more. Same building, same staircases, same door, same desk. The rose wilted.

Your heels continued to click clack in the empty corridor as you made your way to the kitchen. You didn't have your coffee yet, why not help yourself. You dig in the cabinets and found an Italian ground and excitedly poured it in the filter. Cream and sugar was already conveniently placed next to the coffee maker. You tap your foot anticipating coffee heaven when your phone buzzing in your bag.

"America?"

"Good morning! I'm on my way over the conference building, so you be-"

"Beat you dude," the coffee bubbled.

"Oh c'mon! I wanted to at least be like, 'You're late,' to you or any one of those guys!" you could tell he was driving as you hear the screech of wheels. "It's only gonna be eight of us today, so you think you can prep beverages?"

"On it," you reach for teabags and start a kettle on the stove.

"Thanks, see you then."

 _Beep._


	6. Chapter 6

The kettle whistled as you prepared saucers and teacups and condiments on a tray. While pouring the hot water in one cup you hear the doors open, "Yo!" America's voice echoed in the empty building. He screams, startling you as hot water splashed on the counter.

"America!" you stomp your foot.

"Wh-Who are you?" he points a shaky finger at you. You stare at him blankly and then set the kettle down, "You're not _, are you?!"

You lean on the counter, "Quit tripping America, now do you want coffee or tea?"

Italy could be heard singing, "Draw a circle that's the earth! Draw a circle that's the earth!" He approaches the kitchen, "Draw a circle that's the-WHOA!"

"Coffee or tea?" you continue to ask.

"Tea!" says England who pops out from behind America.

"Now, this attire is wonderful!" comments France looking up and down and all around.

Japan silently raises his hand for tea.

Italy begins setting cups on another tray for coffee, "You're so beautiful today, _."

"Oh, uhm, thank you," the tea tray you were about to pick up is lifted by Germany, dressed in a dark grey suit. They start making their way upstairs and you follow behind counting, "...four, five, six?" The door cracked open again and you hide your excitement seeing that it is Russia. It's Russia. You face your back at him.

 _NO. You dressed so nicely, you wear it with pride._

"Good morning, _," you spun around.

"Morning, Ivan!" you spurt his name out with hands clamped at your side and back straight. Yet you stared at his scarf instead of his eyes.

"You're looking um," he paused. He seemed to be hesitating as he fumbled with his hands.

"I think everyone is here! Come up you two!" America called from the top of the stairs.

You clear your throat and try to walk coolly up the stairs, but ended up walking slowly, literally step by step. Russia comes at your side and lends an arm, you clutch it and start happily trotting up. The first face you see is France's, but he had more of a grimace than a smile. He changes it to a slight grin before heading inside the conference room. "Count off! America!"

"Italy!"

"Japan."

"Germany."

"Russia," you continue holding his arm as you two sat down.

"England."

"France."

"Shit, is Canada late again?" asks America as he looked over the balcony.

A small soft voice responds, "N-No, I'm right here."

You look beside you, "Oh Lord!" He had the same hair color as America with his hair parted similarly, and to make it harder to tell them apart, he wore glasses. A curl swished around as he smiled. "Hi."

"Hello!" his curl twitched happily.

"Hello, Canada, good thing you made it," said Russia.

Canada shivered, "Oh, uhm, hello Russia."

You look across the table and catch France staring at you. He moved his finger in a hook and gestured you to come to him. So you did, "Sit here, dear." You look over at Russia who had his eyebrows furrowed and glared at France who did not seem intimidated. Canada shook in his seat. You take your laptop on and flip it on.

"All righty! Let's start!" claims America as he shut the doors. "Whoo, coffee!" your limit of sugar was at least two packets, but America went for four. "Now, for these documents..."

His voice drifts away as France presses his lips against your hair since it covered your ear. "Mon'amie, if you have been warned already, I will say it again," he takes a pause. "It's impossible to hold a relationship. I'm saying it now that I see how close you and Russia are. It's only been a week, but you two seem to inch closer and closer every time we see you again. Russia is always going to be here, physically." England passes a document to him, "What is this?"

"If you weren't whispering in _'s ear, then maybe you would have gotten it," snorts England.

France skims it, "Sure, do it," you pass it along to Japan. He continues, "I have had countless relationships. Whether they were short or long, I had to say goodbye to them. I chose to say goodbye to them. Russia has never been able to quite make long lasting friendships." He sighs, "I gave him advice on how to make a friend, but recently he's been asking for...lover advice." You blush, but continue typing random things on your online document. He chuckles, "How on earth are you breaking this man down to the point where he is glaring at me as if I stole candy from him?" You see poor Canada trembling as Russia's dark aura crept upon his back. His lips brush against your ear, making you inch your head the opposite way, "You know he already considers you his lover? I didn't think he could be this greedy..." he continues leaning towards you and then jumps back from his chair.

A dagger flew across the room, missing France's face and digging itself one thirds into the wall. You hide your face behind your laptop screen, so many things were running through your mind. "E-Excuse me!" you click clack your way out of the room and hear everyone give France a fuss. You shove your heels under your chair and huddle under your desk. "Lover since when?!"

 _That's not the point he was trying to make though...Although, I don't remember consenting to be his, girlfriend. Lover? What's the difference? If I had a life with Russia how would it be? He wouldn't be at home most of the time would he? He would probably be spending time attending conferences day by day. I will get older, physically, and he won't. I don't think we would be able to have kids. What's the point then? Am I just satisfying his need to be close with someone? He can do that after I'm...gone._

"It's only been a week and he is mentally breaking me." You rub your head, "I don't want to like him, but I don't want to hate him. Ugh, how did I get in this situation?"

 _Troublesome. So troublesome._

You hear the door creak open and shut. "_-chan?"

"Japan?" you crawl out from under the desk frightening him.

He starts talking to you in Japanese, "Are you okay? What did France say?"

"A lot..." you sit back under the desk as he sits in seiza position in front of you. "Japan, have you had any...lovers?"

His face flushed, "N-No! I simply had no time to associate with someone. And when I did, I found satisfaction in being with myself. I never felt the need to search for someone. Italy and Germany's company have been enough since we formed the alliance. However, that's just me." He loosens his tie, "Why do you ask?"

"Uhm..." you look away, "N-No reason."

"Are you and Russia...?"

"A-Apparently."

"What an anime romance," he sits up.

"What's your opinion on a relationship with a country?"

"I'm not sure..." he draws circles on the floor with his finger. "Time passes so fast especially in the time of war. It's amazing how fast we grew up, starting out small. Sometimes I don't return home for a month or so, but it's fine because no one is waiting for me. If there was someone...but one day they aren't there, then," he stares up at you, "I imagine that being painful." You tug your legs closer, "I have, we have lived through centuries, and hopefully will continue doing so from now on. You are still young, I would just say do whatever you like, _-chan. I'm sure France meant well, he's just looking out for you." He takes both your hands and proceeds to stand up as you lift yourself out from underneath. "You have to talk with Russia."

...

You stayed outside waiting for the meeting to end as you did before. You had nothing to do since you left your laptop inside. _Love. Do I love Russia? It feels more like a high school crush though... His words, actions drives me crazy though. Love._

The door opens and as soon as you see Russia you head straight towards him, place a hand on his chest and slowly push him back inside the room. You felt the seven other countries stare at you doing so, but closed the door on them. "Russia, is it true what France said?"

"Hm?" he takes the dagger out from the wall and slips it back in his boot.

"You...consider us lovers?"

"Are we...not?" he looked hurt.

You take your glasses off and set them on the table, "You never said so. I just thought we were friends."

"I'm sorry," he steps forward, "I've never been good with words. Although I announced we were lovers the first time we met to everyone..."

 _Oh god._

"I guess I never formally asked you," he takes your hands, "Will you-"

"Wait," you pull your hands away, "Russia, I'm going to live for maybe a few more decades. I'm going to be here and be gone. I can't be with you for centuries to come. Why did you want me to become your friend? Why do you want to be more than friends?"

He sits down in silence. "It's so cold during winter times. Ever since I was small, even though Ukraine and Belarus took care of me, it was so cold." He holds his arms, "It feels so warm being around you. I'm attracted by your warmth." His face flushes, "Everything feels fluffy around you. I instantly wanted to steal that light, before someone else noticed it."

You look away, "Russia I don't think, that's such a good idea. I-"

His hand reached for your chin and he roughly pulls your face close, "Sorry, I made up my mind. I will make you mine, kotyonok." This is the first time you have seen him as the Russia everyone feared. The eyes you once called beautiful gleamed with eagerness. He tilts your chin, and presses his lips against yours. You shut your eyes, not knowing what to do as you felt your body light on fire. He cups your cheeks and tilts your head up to try again. Messily, he plants his lips on yours again with his mouth slightly open. He holds your face for five seconds until you push him away to inhale deeply. "Kissing's a lot harder than I thought," he muttered. He licks his lips, "But we have time to practice, don't we?"

You raised your hand to strike him across the cheek, but hold yourself back. You didn't hate the kiss, you just hated how he didn't ask for your consent.

 _"You're in control."_

You remember America's words.

 _I am in control._

Although you feel your face flustered, you sweep your hair out of your face and notice Russia's back is facing the wall. You approach slowly and press your chest against him, making sure he is trapped between you and the wall. He looks down, his face becoming red. You touch his cheek and lean in slowly, "I don't hate the thought of being yours." You feel his hands travel from the waist to your hips, "But you have to get permission first." You push his hands off, take your laptop and bag, and haughtily walk out the room past America, France and Italy pressing their ears against the wall. You stare at them for a while, grab your heels, and continue walking out the building.

...

"Dammit Ivan, I should've named you something else," you sat the bear on your chair as you tugged your heels off. "I'll call you Mr. Bear from now on, okay?" You open your laptop and see your "Pictures" folder was open and spammed with pictures of France. He also snapped pictures of Russia and Canada. "I'll delete these later," you check America's flights and tickets. He has a flight to England coming up in a week, "I should call him up later." You check your phone, "No messages or missed calls..."

 _Well, you did walk out on him, I wonder if he's mad._

...

"I wish spring would come already," sighed Italy as he stared out the window of the hotel buffet. The hotel resided next to a beach, but of course, no one wanted to attempt swimming in the freezing water. The sky cleared to a deep blue revealing the mountains whose snow covered caps looked like clouds. "Let's go swim when we go back to my place Germany! You too Japan!"

"It's January you fool, it's still freezing," he responds while sipping his coffee.

Canada approached their empty seat with a filled plate, "Hi guys, can I sit with you?"

Germany gestures, "Sure, you-"

He immediately sits down facing Japan since it is a square table. "Oh thank you, I was so terrified today."

"Yes, today had a different kind of...drama," agreed Germany taking a disappointed bite out of a small sausage. "His aim hasn't gotten worse though," he stares over at the other half of G8 who sat closer to the buffet, probably because of America's preferences.

"What was France thinking?" he stuffed his mouth with food.

France bravely sat near Russia instead of sitting in front of him as England awkwardly sips his tea and America chomps on his bacon. "Whoo! Thank goodness there was still bacon around!" cheers America.

"You just had to bug the kitchen staff to give you the leftovers," England rolled his eyes. He watches as France takes a bite out of a croissant, and Russia angrily chew his food. "Oh bugger this," he puts his tea down. "What is with you two today?" Russia glares at him, so England turns the other way, "M-Mainly with France."

"Isn't it obvious? We are a country, it's not our duty to be looking for relationships."

"Ironic coming from you," comments England.

"Those aren't relationships, most of them," reminds France.

Russia straightens his back, "I already know the consequences, France."

"Russia, America could have hired someone completely different from that girl, you could have taken interest right when they showed you a bit of kindness," France uses his fork as a pointing stick.

"Oh, please," America gulps a piece of bacon down, "I disagree, I don't think just any girl can catch this dude's attention."

"I give you advice to make a friend, and next thing you know you are defiling the conference room?" France shifts the subject.

Russia sinks his head a little in his scarf, "It was just a kiss."

"Oh, but I love how she left you wanting more," chortled France remembering her stomping off all of a sudden and peeking inside to find Russia covering his face in embarrassment. England hides his smirk behind his tea cup as America decides to not hide his laughter and gives Russia hearty pats on the back. Russia covers his face once more. "Yeah, you're right, America, I don't think any girl can make Russia feel this way."

"Just stop talking..."

"HELLO!" America picks up his phone. "England, next Saturday? Y-Yeah of course I knew that! Hm? Oh, you're totally coming, England won't trust me with holding any documents any more. Huh? Yeah your ticket is already taken care of! OH HEY YOU WANNA SPEAK TO RUSSIA? Ah, she hung up."

Russia covered his face entirely with his scarf.

"Aw, look Russia is embarrassed again," giggled France as he poked Russia's head.

"Don't test his patience," warned England.


	7. Chapter 7

"Get in the car," America just drove up to you while you were walking back to your apartment after making a grocery run.

"No," you continue walking on the sidewalk as he drives at your pace.

"C'mon, _! Where's that sense of adventure?"

You wanted at least a normal day to pass after yesterday, but you knew it was ruined right when you saw America's car turn the corner. You make an annoyed sigh, "Where?"

"Oh, France rented this awesome restaurant nearby and is gonna prepare dinner for us before he leaves tomorr- HEY!" you already start walking ahead. Hearing "France" is enough for a no. "Oh, c'mon, he won't do any more weird stuff, I promise! It's French food! It's yummy and free! Better than whatever you purchased!"

You look down at celery sticks you aren't likely to touch, a loaf of bread, ground coffee and pack of gum. "Ugh, fine, but let me drop this off at my place first."

"Get in the car then."

"We're already here," you trot up the stairs, "Oh, do I have to dress fancy?"

"Yup!" he happily poses in his light brown suit. "Don't take too long!"

"You know you could've called me!"

"...Nah."

...

"Hey, hey France should I start preparing the garlic bread already?" asks Italy as he waved a baguette around.

France spun around with his spatula in the air, "Huh? Oh, sure, go ahead."

"Come Romano, we haven't cooked together in a while!" Romano grabs the knife Italy was about to use to slice the baguette.

"Oi! Lemme handle the sharp things and you prepare other stuff!" he demands.

Spain pats his head, "Oh, you're so caring Lovino!"

"Shut up..."

"Oi! Did someone order wine?" Prussia bursts through the kitchen door with two wine bottles in his hand as Germany carried the rest in a paper bag. "Why do you demand wine instead of beer, France? It's no fun."

France waves his finger, "No no. We are having a sophisticated French dinner tonight."

"Buono tomato, buono tomato," sang Italy.

"Oi, that's my song..." comments Romano.

"Since when were you ever really sophisticated?" joked Prussia as he searched for a bucket to place ice in.

"I can ask the same to you," responds France as he exchanges a low five with Spain. "Now, go change! I don't want the mood to be ruined by jeans and plaid!" he jabs a finger especially to Prussia.

"Picky picky," he shoves the drinks in ice, "I'll see you back at the hotel West!"

...

"Why are we at the hotel?" you ask America as he parks in the front.

"Just to pick up some of the guys," he starts dialing a number while looking out the window. "OI ENGLAND!"

You hear yelling from his phone, "DAMMIT I GET IT!" Dial tone.

"America?" you stare at his side and see a grey haired man leaning on America's car door. "Yo, picking up the slackers?"

"YUP!"

His glance switches over to you, "Uhm, hi?" you give him a little wave. "I don't think we've me-" he slides over America's car hood over to your side and takes your hand.

"You may have heard from West, about me, the great Prussia!" he pauses for effect. "But if you haven't, I'm the great Prussia."

"Nice to-" you see him get picked up by the neck of his coat to reveal Russia. "...meet."

"Oi, oi!" Prussia lifted his hands up.

"Please don't hurt him," you asked gently.

"The very first time we met he choked me," said Prussia as he was set down.

England begins entering the back seat along with Japan, "Evening _-chan."

"Hi Japan!" you gleefully respond.

Russia sat behind you, "Well, I guess we'll see you at the restaurant?" asked America. You all hear a click from the back and see Prussia squish himself in the way back of the car and held on to England's seat. "If we're late it's because you all are fat."

"You're fat," said England.

"No I'm not! I just gotta get naked first and then weigh myself!" he presses on the acceleration foot pad and you hold your seat belt. "Thirty minute ride, get comfy everyone!"

...

Russia opens the car door for you and stretches out a black gloved hand. As you take it you stare up at him and his dangerous smile. You suddenly remember the kiss and pull your hand away and pretend to straighten out your black dress. You hear Prussia knocking on the van door, seeing how no one else wanted to release him you did so. He flashes a grin, and straightens his coat out, "Hi." He leans on the car, "_, is it?"

"Yeah, uhm, can you move please so I can close the door?"

"Oh, yeah," he quickly moves. "Are you and Russia, together?"

You look over and see Russia listening on the passenger side of the car. "I...I..." Russia held a blank expression, turns, and strides to the restaurant. "I don't know," you whisper in a hopeless voice.

"D-Don't get upset!" you two stand in silence for a few seconds. "Ah, shit, did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's just me. I'm sorry. Why don't we go inside?"

"Y-Yeah! I'll crack us open the best wine me and West got!" he puts a hand on your back to gently push you forward. "I don't think he told you, but I'm Germany's older brother!"

"What?" you're shocked. He had a much more carefree personality than Germany, and looked nothing like him, although they share the same accent. "Wow, he's the little brother?"

He snorts, "I know."

The first thing that caught your eye inside the restaurant is a stone fireplace smack dab in the middle. The flames flicked behind the glass and kissed your cheeks with warmth. Next is an exotic smell coming from the kitchen through an arched window revealing France and Spain strutting around with pots and pans. France sees you and blows a kiss, "Bienvenue! Almost ready, loves!" He disappears from view and then comes out in a waiter's outfit and shoos Prussia away. "Come," he takes your hand and pulls you to where Russia sat. It was in front of the fireplace. Italy sat in a table nearby and gave you a wave as well as Germany who's hair was being ruffled by Prussia. "I'll come with a menu soon."

As he trotted away you summon the courage to look directly at Russia's face. His head leaned on one hand and his focus is on the fire. "Russia." His gaze hit you with irritation, but then turned lonesome as he rests his head on his crossed arms.

"I'm sorry, _, I don't know what I'm doing," he apologizes.

You reach out for his head with your left hand, your thumb touching the top of his earlobe and your right hand stroking his hair in a loving manner. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing either." You feel him shift his cheek onto your left hand, but continue petting his soft hair.

 _Oh my god he's so cute why can't I shrink him into my pocket and take him home?!_ Your mind flashes back to the time he stole kisses. _Ah, and then there's that part that pisses me off...but I kinda like it. Am I a masochist? Fuck._ You feel him nuzzle in your left hand. _Oh god it's as if I'm petting a fucking puppy! A puppy who likes to bite sometimes..._

He takes both your hands, presses them together, straightens up and brings them up to his lips. "I'd like to melt in this warmth," he rests his chin on your hands with a foolish smile.

You squeeze his hands back, "What about when the warmth dies down? It will get cold again. I wouldn't want you to freeze."

He returns to looking at the fire, but continues holding your hands. "The memories of that warmth will keep me going, that's my conclusion."

"Throughout the centuries, how could you have not found anyone else that interested you?"

His gaze wanders off, "There was not enough time. Never a good time. Always something to focus on, but when I was alone I would realize I really am alone. When Russia came out of isolation I was really happy. And then, I realize how intimidating I am, how hard it is to make friends, to meet someone who would like to return my warmth. To think it would take this long to find someone."

To think this part time job would turn into a full time one, and result in taking interest someone. "Russia, all I ask for is more time to...get to know each other, we've only been together for a week. So much has happened, everything is really overwhelming. I don't want to jump into this relationship just yet, and I know you feel set, but think about it."

"So...we aren't together?"

"Uhm, let's say not officially, so no making out yet! We'll go on more dates?"

"Dates?" he seems to ponder about it, but answers, "Okay."

...

Russia watches _ share a toast of champagne with America, Italy, Romano and Japan. He watches her giggle with the Italy brothers and exchange in Japanese with Japan. France makes his way over with a glass of wine, "Sorry, had to spruce up the kitchen a little. What is it you wanted to ask?"

He swished the wine around as France impatiently takes a sip of his, "She wants to have more...dates? What does that mean?"

"She wants to get to know you more!" France playfully clinks their glasses. "Don't worry she's probably as hooked on you as you are to her. She probably wants to go with the four stages."

"Four stages?"

"You know! Eh, hmm."

America grabs a seat between them, "Yo! Whatcha talking about?"

"What do you call the four stages of a relationship again, America?" asks France.

"Four stages? Ha! It's bases like in baseball! Why you ask?" France points to Russia, "OH, you wanna hit a home run?!"

"What's a home run?" Russia asks innocently.

In a low voice France responds, "Sex."

"Oh! First base is kissing, second is touching, third is-" America's chair is dragged back by _.

"What are you telling him?! Isn't it first base is holding hands, second base is like a simple kiss-"

"The hell were you raised?"

"America, dammit!"

Russia smiles, "I think I like America's version better." He watches her face redden, something he enjoyed to do, "I'm joking."

Italy calls her back.

...

"Romano and Italy were very cute when they were little," Spain was gladly sharing the story of the brothers when you returned. "Romano never was good at cleaning though."

"Shut up, you bastard," muttered Romano pouring himself some wine.

He nearly spills his wine as Spain wraps an arm around his neck, "Oh, but he was so loving at times!"

"I never was, let go!"

"Did you have anyone caring for you Japan?" you asked.

"Oh, China, but I grew independent quite quickly."

"You were pretty isolated too."

"They were quiet years..." he seems to go off reminiscing.

"Ah, since you're going to England you're always welcome to travel around Europe," says Spain, bearing Romano's punches. "I'm sure America has a bunch of traveling to do around there, so I hope you enjoy your time the-" Romano headbutted him.

You place your hands on your cheeks, "That's right I'm going to Europe...I'm going to Europe!"

"You'll still be working though," reminded England as he attempted to look classy sipping his drink. "You will be traveling around with America most of the time, so I hope his attitude doesn't catch on you."

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get around that thick skull of his," you both look at America who scooted back to talk with Russia and France.

"He was such a small boy when I first found him," he finishes his wine and pours another. He gestures the bottle to you and carefully pours you a glass too. "I'm quite proud of his development since then."

"You're not supposed to chug down wine like beer brother!" you see Germany fail to stop Prussia from gulping down a glass of wine.

Prussia already looked buzzed with a goofy grin, "Then it would take forever to finish the whole bottle West!"

"You're supposed to savor it..."

You stop yourself from unconsciously drinking your newly poured wine as if it were water. You feel your cheeks flush. Whenever you drank it never resulted in anything regretful. You had no one to drunk dial or text, and were always at the apartment feeling classy by yourself. You never went over one glass before, but still held yourself up better than Prussia.

You hear Spain singing, playing a guitar he probably stored somewhere along with Romano ringing a tambourine. His face had an annoyed look, but it seemed he was enjoying it. France leaves America and Russia to join his song even if it were in Spanish. You sway to the acoustic. The strings are plastic, but pluck and strum them right they ring a melodic sound that makes people want to dance. Spain was turning the setting into a fiesta.

"I don't know what this song is, but this is my jam!" cheered America as he tries to move his body with the music.

Italy jumps excitedly up and down while holding Germany's arm and doesn't wait for a reply as he drags his arm to the middle. Italy dances with the rhythm having his arms up and down, his feet tapping on the wooden floor, and clapping to Romano's tambourine. Germany sighs, defeated, and joins Italy's dance. Prussia drunkenly sang along with France holding a bottle of Champagne. You, England, Japan and Russia stood around like the awkward wall flowers you are.

England just clapped along with the music along with Russia. "Why don't you join, _?" asks Japan.

"I...don't dance, much. I swear the only thing I know is that Bon Odori dance you do at festivals."

"Ah, yes, I hope you come during the summer to Japan. Those are when the festivals happen."

"That sounds awesome, I'd love to be a part of-" Italy steps between you and Japan, sets your drink down and draws you to Romano.

"Hey, big brother! Can you show _ how to dance?"

"Wh-Why me?" he appeared reluctant to give up his tambourine gig.

"You're much better in teaching than I am! Plus I learned it from you," begged Italy. "I'll dance with you!"

Before you could politely decline Romano shoves the tambourine to Prussia and offers his hand. As he takes you to the dance floor Spain and France hoot at him, "Be gentle with him, _!"

"Oh, shut it!" hissed Romano as he cleared his throat. "Okay," he waits for Italy and Germany to stand in front of you two. Germany seemed just as confused as you are. Italy starts to clap one second apart, edging everyone else to clap as well. The chords have changed, but the tempo is still upbeat. Romano has you wrap your hand around his elbow and directs you to follow his lead. You try your best to copy his foot movement as you proceed to step towards Germany and Italy and backwards. The second time you notice the two brothers tip an imaginary hat to each other and then Romano sets his hand on your back. Germany and Italy hold hands and lift their arms in the air as you two slip underneath. You then let the other two pass under your arms, which was a struggle for poor Germany as he had a hard time crouching. Romano also purposely smacked him wit his arm, "Sorry," he chuckles to himself.

...

"Me next!" yelled America as he dragged England to be his partner.

You wearily travel back to where Japan was sitting and happily sit right back down, "Enjoy yourself?" he asks.

"It actually was fun," you pant. "Oh my legs. Russia, why don't you dance?"

He sat across from you holding a glass of water, "Ah, well, I wanted to be the one dancing with you."

 _Oh._

"Oh..." you slump back in your seat. "Do you...do the cossack dance?"

"Oh yes, I love when the others attempt to do it, because they fail." He pats his thigh, "This is where the strength comes from."

You devilishly grin.

...

The tables were cleared aside as those who volunteered to do the cossack dance stood in a line in front of the fire place. France sat on the side with you, England and Romano. You convinced Japan to join the rest of the boys as you and Russia browse through traditional Russian music on the web. You also whip out a camera you packed and position it on a table where Russia was cut out of the frame. He stood proudly as if he is about to lead his troop into battle with his back straight and arms crossed. To your surprise, Germany seemed to be the most excited. Italy bounced along with Spain and Prussia. America held a confidence stance, and Japan held the worried face.

"Okay, basically, it's like doing a squat, but you stick one leg out right when you go down on your heel," explains Russia. "It seems easy, but try doing it with your arms crossed," he shows the example and the responses were cheering and enthusiastic clapping.

You play the music. America is the first to drop down, but as soon as he stuck his leg out he fell on his side and rolled off. Japan slowly edged himself to the ground and leveraged himself with his hands. Spain landed it, but as he tried to switch to his other leg he loses balance and falls on his side. You and the other audience cracked with laughter. Italy tried the same strategy as Japan, but lost all self-confidence as he saw Germany and Prussia perform without any difficulty.

"How?!" cries an angry America.

"Never skip leg day! Kesesese!" laughs a drunk Prussia.

"It's cause all those McDonald burgers got to your thighs!" jeers England.

"I want to go home," you hear Japan mutter.

"Bite me fluffy brows!" whined America as he continues to attempt the dance. You try hard not to laugh, but it was too much to hold in. You catch yourself beaming at Russia who is trying his best to keep himself from smirking.


	8. Chapter 8

_"So, you'll be in England next week?" he asks one day after the party while you two sit outside on your apartment steps sipping hot coffee. "Are you excited?"_

 _The warm, sweet liquid trails down your throat, "So much! I've always wanted to go to Europe. I never thought I'd get the chance. I'm so grateful what this random job offers me."_

 _"Even me?"_

 _"Ye-Yeah."_

 _A car roars by._

 _"We won't be able to see each other a lot, won't be able to have a lot of dates," says Russia while looking at his cocoa._

 _You lean on his firm shoulder, "Yeah, I mean, I never tried long distance. But hey! We'll see each other in meetings and events that are coming up! And, we have technology!" you show your phone, reminding him._

 _"Oh yeah, I guess I really have to learn how to use it."_

 _You open your camera app and shyly look at him, "Hey, Russia." You scoot closer aiming for the head on head pose, you capture his look of surprise. And then, his posed smile. And then, a sneak kiss on the cheek...by you. As he blushed to himself you giggle at his expressions. "You're so cute, Ivan," his name rolls of your tongue. To you, Ivan seemed more like the nickname, and the only times you wanted to use it were when he is caught off guard._

 _He pouts, whips out his phone, fiddles with it, and then hands it to you for help. You two proceed to snap cheesy photos of each other, "Russia which do you prefer? Your name or country?"_

 _He shrugs, "Not even my sisters call me Ivan. Unless they do not truly know who I am, Ivan is brushed aside. I'm fine with you calling me either, but it's nice hearing you call my name." He finishes the cocoa and stands up, "Well, I'm going to depart to Russia soon." You stay standing on the step, almost matching his height, "Can I...get a goodbye kiss?"_

 _Smiling, you tiptoe, holding his cheeks as he gingerly holds your waist and slowly begin leaning in-_

 _"HEY!" your head jerks to the driveway and see America in his car with his window down. "WAKE UP!"_

"Hey!" you awoke to America's voice. Not only was he repeatedly saying "hey" he also was jabbing a finger at your cheek. "What were you drooling about?"

You find yourself hugging a pillow and drool escaping your open mouth. You peer outside and see the buildings of Germany grow closer as the plane landed. The captain spoke in German as another woman translated for him asking passengers to prepare for landing. You throw the wet pillow at America so he could return to his seat and straighten your new carrier bag that Japan gave you. You felt like an anime high school girl with it.

"Sick dude! I got fresh drool on my cheek!" cried America.

 _A month has passed since then, I wonder what he's up to. No service yet on phone. I hope Germany has wi-fi._

When you arrived in London you and America were bombarded with documents and files until you suggested England should start using computers. You then sat with him until important papers were retyped, saved, organized, and to check any errors with recently signed documents. It was an amazingly vintage, beautiful large mansion filled with maids and butlers and extravagance. You dared not to go in the basement for America warned that is where England did his witchcraft. Although you spent most of your time getting lost in the mansion and helping England around his office the two treated you to seeing Big Ben and the historic buildings. Now you and America find yourselves to be flying to Germany in order to finally respond with the files he gave the very first meeting you attended.

He gleefully takes his backpack and your carrier bag, "C'mon, we don't want to let Germany wait for us!" He runs out the plane first as you grab onto his jacket so you don't get caught up in the crowd. Sitting in the front has it's advantages and this is one you loved.

Before he started down an escalator you grab his arm back, "Wait a minute we have to go to luggage claim first!"

"Oh, right, my bad."

...

"I can't believe you and England bought me a bright pink bag," America muttered as he spotted his bag, but quickly handed it to you pretending it is yours.

"So it will be spotted easily."

"Why didn't you get it yourself?!" he grabs your dark blue bag with a red ribbon tied on the handle.

"Honestly just to fuck with you." Although you had no choice but to travel with the dude, you already have forgotten the fact that he is your boss, and have feel as if you have grown on him.

"Ha, I'm glad you're at least fun," he rolls your bag instead. "I bet you were drooling over Russia in the plane."

"Oh, shut up," you flush and walk ahead of him towards the exit. You see the back of a familiar blonde and wonder if you should pounce on him as Italy does or give him a pat on the back. You go for the pat believing you two are still on formal terms.

"Oh," he turns.

"Hi Ger-" he pecks both of your cheeks, "...many."

Realizing what he's done he gets flustered and apologizes, "Oh, god! I'm so sorry _, it's just that's the way I've been greeting Italy, and it was an immediate reaction."

"Better you than me," laughs America as Germany continues to be blushing.

"I'll take your luggage," his hand flinches when it almost brushed against yours, and then he continues to take it. "Your luggage is very..."

"It's America's, he's totally secretly gay for pink."

"HOLD UP NOW!"

...

"Oh, Germany's house looks so cozy!" it looked smaller than America's house and is surrounded by a stone wall. The house looked like a cottage surrounded by bare trees as a stone walkway led to the front. You stand behind the black gate as America takes the luggage from the car out, "Oh! Are those dogs?"You hear them barking from behind the wooden door which creaks open to your surprise. Light shone inside, cutting through the darkness. Two German shepherds and a golden retriever ran out the door barking excitedly. Germany yells a command and they stop in the middle of the walkway, sit down and wag their tails in silence. "Italy is that you?" you called out to whoever opened the door.

Germany opens the gate and you walked straight to the dogs to crouch and pet them. "Come inside, you can play with them in the warmth," with the flick of his hand the trio of dogs run back inside.

"Awesome place you got here!" America runs ahead of you, "Whoa, bro!"

Italy appeared from behind the door wearing a white apron and stirring something in a bowl. "Ciao!" he greets with his usual flashy smile.

"What the hell are you doing in my house, uninvited?!" yelled Germany. "And, what are you doing?"

"I heard you were having guests and I wanted to fix a dinner for you! Ciao, _!" Italy's curl bounced happily as Germany pet his head.

"You didn't have to do that, but might as well have their last meal be something so delicious," Germany enters the house with his dogs.

"Last meal?"

"Last unhealthy meal," Germany rephrases.

Your glance switches to America who was nonchalantly making his way around the house. "I thought we were just here for documents?"

"That is the main case! But!" he throws his coat on the nearest chair which Germany scurries to pick up. He left a trail of clothing that was picked up by Germany, leading to an exercise room filled with weights, equipment and mirrors.

"Geez, Italy makes a better guest. At least he keeps his clothes on until he goes to bed," mutters Germany.

"Oh, please tell me his underwear isn't in that pile," before he could check an agonizing scream is made in the corner of the room. There stood America in the corner on a weighing scale in his polka dot boxers. He then re-calibrates the scale and steps back on it a couple times before accepting reality.

"Dammit, furry brows may be right!" he stares into one of the huge mirrors and pinches the jiggly part on his belly, "Wh-Where did my abs go? All of a sudden."

"America, please...put on clothes," you beg.

"That settles it," Germany hands you a neatly folded pile of clothes, "We will stick to a strict training regimen for the next three weeks. That also means changing your diet."

"Can I still eat ice cream and pizza, and burgers?" whined America.

"NO! Although exercise helps strengthen and tighten your body, the diet is the most important thing!" he sounds just like a training instructor.

America walks up to you, takes a hold of your shoulders and brings you close to his eyes, "_, please join me."

"Wha? No way! This is all for your benefit! And for starters put your shirt back on!"

He tugs his sweater on while muffling, "Please? Trust me, this is not the first time I came for help. First time I came to Germany though! I need a partner!" Seeing you weren't budging he went for the extreme, "I'll cut your paycheck in half."

 _Damn, he remembered he is my boss._

"Fine."

"Don't worry, we'll start off slow first, and build it up," assured Germany. "I'll also throw in some combat training for you, _."

"Please, don't die _," whispered Italy from the kitchen.

...

Germany said to come to the front of his house two hours after dinner, but you decided to be dressed and prepped and step out ten minutes earlier. You had to dig in your luggage to grab the baggy black pants you have shoved in back in America. The sports bra you wore all the time is finally going to be put in use as you slipped a plain white shirt over and had the only active jacket you owned on. You now see why America made you purchase one back in England, also running shoes. Germany beams at you proudly when you step outside, "I like that you came early." You admired his look, combat boots, dark green trousers topped with a military jacket.

Italy stood beside him waving a white flag, "Are you going to give them the same training back in World War 2?"

"Vat? No! I'm sure America can handle it, but I don't want to put _ through that!"

"Whoa!" you touch his jacket's material, "So, is that what you wore?"

"Y-Yeah."

"You look so cool!"

Germany backs away, furiously blushing, "Th-This is what most soldiers wore! Not big of deal!"

"Oh, man, I should have brought my clothing too!" sighed Italy. "Oh!" Italy straightens your back, and poses your right hand in a proper military salute. "Now," he steps to your left side and positions himself as well, "Say, 'Yes Captain!'"

"Yes Captain!" you say in the sternest voice you could, and then bounce up and down with Italy. "Oh, my god that was so cool!"

"I know!"

Germany hides his embarrassed smile, "That America is one minute late."

"Yo!" America bursts through the door wearing a red sports jacket, black pants and combat boots. You suddenly want those boots now.

"COUNT OFF!"

"1!" you yell out excitedly.

"2!"

"Tre!" Italy yells holding his flag. "Oh," he steps back to Germany. "Sorry, I totally had deja vu!"

"Now, before we begin training, we shall stretch!"

Italy cheered you and America on as Germany instructed you both through the basic stretching routines. You are surprised on how stretching was beginning to tire you out a little. "All right," he opens the gate and draws a map with his finger. "You see that fenced off field? You are going to run a lap around it, and when you come back be prepared to do more. GO!"

His booming voice is like a gunshot, so you took off before America did. The cold definitely made it easier for you to run as the wind nipped your cheeks. America caught up with you panting heavily. You turn to him, expecting him to speak, but he had a determined look in his eyes, so you decided to keep at the same pace as him.

"Not bad," Germany complimented while stopping a timer. "Doing better than Italy did the first time around. Now, drop and give ten!" Afterwards, "Wall sits! One minute!" Then, "Thirty sit ups!" He held America's feet down as Italy held yours. "Another lap!"

The second time around you started off slowly as America pushed himself forward, but this time you could see the exhaustion on his face. Back once more, push ups, lunges, sit ups, lunges, and finally one last sprint. Although you could feel your breath growing rapid and hearing your heart pumping, you and America get ready to race each other. The advantage he has is having longer legs than you, taking longer strides. Even if it wasn't a competition, it feels exhilarating. Taking off, it felt as if you were flying, as if your feet no longer touched the ground. It was such a rush, you didn't care whether America inched forward little by little. Even if he finished first, he slowed down in the end while you kept zooming til the end, and make extra effort to stand straight in front of Germany.

"Teacher's pet," wheezed America.

Honestly, your knees felt like jelly and collapsed on the cold sidewalk, groaning in immense soreness. Italy patted your back as you cough and hack while catching your breath, "You two should take rest now," said Germany making his way back in his house. "Meet me in the weight room at eight sharp in the morning, good job. If you need me I'll be in my office."

...

The room reminded you of your small apartment, except without the clutter. A bed with fluffy white sheets and pillows sat against the wall facing a flat screen television. It stood on a long thin table which you shoved your luggage case under. You switch on the lamp next to your bed and flop down on the soft cold blanket. America pounded on the door, "Oi! I'm showering first okay? Don't walk in!"

"'Kay!" you decided not to throw an insult and shove your hand under the pillow where you left your phone. New texts.

"I found out how to use the faces!" the message followed a kissy face and hearts. Scrolling up you see he snapped a picture of an elaborate mansion with a red tinted roof and a balcony. There seemed to be no driveway, but sidewalks stretching to different areas and meeting at a fountain not running with water, but overflowing with snow. "Since Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia left, I've been quite lonely..."

(Note: The Baltic States have regained their independence after the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991.)

You begin typing back, "You promised me borscht, so don't worry, I'll make my way there somehow."


	9. Chapter 9: Valentine's

The weights intimidated you, but Germany did not lead you to the equipment, only America. He took you to the side and immediately began the combat training. You found it hard to take serious at first when he held your head or motioned to grab at your arms, shoulders or any part of your body. Using Italy as a dummy, he demonstrated ways to twist an arm, knee at the head or stomach, different variations of using your fists or palms, and how to flip someone over if they had you pinned down. The scary part was that he had you face him with the moves. The first week he pushed you slowly, showing numerous strategies on how to subdue someone based on how they approach you. The second week he had you practice on America who took you by surprise when he successfully tackled you down and had your arms pinned. All you could do was squirm and embarrassingly look at Germany's disappointment. Each time America had you on the ground Germany made you redo it over and over, yelling the answers. Fourth day of the second week you began performing without his instructions.

As the third week came to a close Germany and Italy take you and America out for groceries. You stuck close to Germany even though you wanted to go sightseeing, because you were certain to get lost. The sun shone against the wet stone pavement as Italy skips through the vendors selling vegetables. America grimaces at the veggies for it was a main part of his diet for the last two weeks. They also stop by a grocery store to pick up ingredients for tiramisu and whatever sweets they planned to make. You had to hold onto America's jacket to keep him from running off to pick up chips or any other unhealthy snacks.

Back in the house you browse through his online blog as you sat at the dining table, "Really, America?" They were mainly selfies of you and him tagged "beginning to exercise" or "totally dead tired." You hardly posed for the photos and made ugly faces instead, but now cringed at how they actually came out.

He bit into an apple and shrugged. Italy instructs you what ingredients to place in the bowl for his tiramisu as America helps Germany slice vegetables. America begins talking about a fancy social gathering to take part on Valentine's, "Man, you just can't get away from anyone for a month," he jokingly said.

"Ah, I wish I didn't have to attend such frivolous events, but my boss urges me to go," Germany reaches for the vegetables and put them aside, "You mind helping me form the meat balls?"

America does so and continues to talk as Italy selects a pan for the dessert. "Oh c'mon Germany don't be a stiff! Are you going to get a companion?"

"I'm going with Italy."

You see Italy's lips squirm into a smile, "I'll be going with _."

"What?!"

"As companions! Don't worry totally business relationship, and totally not sexual!" he continues forming balls. "I'm not going alone this time!"

"Where's it gonna be?"

...

Your face felt heavy with makeup as your curled hair bounces through as America listens intently to his GPS. "Damn, I can never get used to the roads being switched," he slows down to turn. You smooth your red gown and fiddle with a cheap necklace you bought from England so your neck doesn't feel bare. You and America went late clothes shopping and decided on red, white and blue. He chose a dark blue suit with a black vest and white buttoned shirt and a red tie. You chose a red high-low dress as it held on your waist and flowed smoothly. You chose chunky brown heels with laces on them to feel somewhat casual. America had you sit with him having his hair and face done. You had to tear yourself from the mirror, because you couldn't believe how much your features have changed.

Someone held the door open for you as America exits and gives the keys to a valet. You gaze at the lavish hotel and stare at the entrance where France approaches with open arms. His hair glittered more than usual and he radiated in his white suit. "Bienvenue! Ah, you look more beautiful each time I see you," he kisses your cheeks and cheerily greets America. "You two are the last ones, what took you?" he glances at America who whistles nonchalantly while putting his phone on silent and closing his GPS app. "Ah, I see, well, we can all come in together, yes?" He proudly leads you through the hotel. Everywhere is bright and dressed with gold and white. The elevator is glass, but you grew queasy watching as it lifted you three to the fifth floor.

America holds his arm out for you to take and you give him a "Really?" face. He rolls his eyes and offers his hand flat out in a sassy way, "Buonne san Valentin!" France skips ahead as you and America awkwardly walk inside.

Many faces look your way and hold up their drinks, "Hey! Look who made it!"

"What took you blokes so long?"

"You still owe me money America!"

"Finally, we can eat!"

Overlapping voices and faces made you shy away behind America as he waves back and shouts back at them. Although you saw familiar faces from the conference meetings there are many other people either standing or sitting at the circular tables clothed in white. A bouquet of red and pink roses posed as the centerpiece with petals scattered on the table. France gestures an arm to your table where a man with dark brown hair, a thick curl, and glasses sat along with a woman who had a pink flower pinned on her hair. You take your seat next to her as America continues to stand, "Sorry, I'm going to chat with a couple people, unless you wanna come?"

"N-No, I'm good," The woman places a hand softly on yours and you blush staring into her bright green eyes.

"You must be _, I don't believe we met. I'm Hungary, and this is Austria," you smile awkwardly at the brunette as he adjusted his glasses. She calls over a waiter serving champagne and hands you a glass, "I didn't know America had a girlfriend."

"Oh, no! I'm just his, like secretary or assistant, nothing like that!" you take a sip of your drink.

She puts a hand to her lips, "Oh! I'm sorry." She giggles, "It looked like it."

A seat away from you sat a lady with short beige hair with breasts nearly spilling out of her spaghetti strap dress. She softly sobbed glancing behind her, and you see that she had her eyes on Russia. "Don't mind her," harshly said Austria. He isn't wearing his distinguished scarf and wore a white long sleeved shirt and a striped vest. Something about the vest sent your mind dirty thoughts. Russia sat next to a lady with long hair and a white bow. He nervously waves at you and then flinches when the woman jerks her head and dares daggers right at you. Quickly, you turn back and stare at the roses.

"Oh, do you know Russia?" she had a heavy Russian accent. She gasps, "You can't be, the one he talks about? Oh, but you are as he described, beautiful." Her breasts jiggled every time she spoke or made a small movement. She moves on America's chair and grabs your hand, "Oh, I hope you take care of my little brother. My boss doesn't want us to be around each other, even at a social event. I feel so guilty, but I must obey. Even though I'm the big sister, Belarus has always stuck around her big brother and continues to." She peers at the woman who still threw a dark aura at you. "Oh, don't worry, she always proposes to Russia, but he always rejects her."

Someone started clinking a glass and everyone turns their attention to France who stood in front of the buffet. He spoke in French for a while as a greeting and said a few cheesy words, hoping everyone gets along and enjoys their time together. "Let's eat!" Russia and Belarus join the line as well.

You and Ukraine continue sitting to wait for the line to die down, "So, you have been with Russia since he was small?" Looking around you see how the tables are moved close to the walls forming space in the middle, a dance floor?

"Oh, yes," you turn back to Ukraine. "What makes me happy is that scarf he usually wears. I gave that to him. Ha, I wish you both happiness." Russia and Belarus return to their seats, "Come, let's eat."

Coming back with a full plate of food you ask America to switch seats with you so you can continue talking to Ukraine. You place a large piece of meat you did not enjoy on America's plate and he happily accepts it. "Ciao!" Italy gives you a sneak attack from behind hug.

"Evening," greets Japan and Germany.

"Wow, bella, you look beautiful," Italy continues to hug you until Germany pries him off. "France is about to invite people on the dance floor, can I be your first dance?"

"Hey, man!" America had a mouth stuffed with food as he talked, "I'm gonna-" he chokes as you slap his back.

"I-I maybe," Japan struggles to find his words.

"Oh my, what attention you have," giggles Hungary.

You see Russia rise from his chair and start trekking to his table, but Belarus clutches his arm and France cuts through to you with a microphone. "Dansons!" he speaks in the mic and slow music played from a band near the entrance. The soft thumps on the drum, taps of the cymbal and trumpet indicated a slow song. He places the mic on the table, takes you out of your chair and into the center of the dance floor as the lights dimmed. "Are you enjoying yourself, mademoiselle? I worked so hard on this arrangement." He holds your waist with his left and your hand in his right and gracefully spins you as others join.

"It's breathtaking France, Europe, this hotel, it's beautiful," the band stops playing and everyone turns to see Austria pause them to fill the seat of the empty grand piano.

"Ah, he just can't help himself," he sways and lets go of your hand, switching partners. While switching you see Russia uncomfortably dancing with Belarus.

At first, you feared standing alone and awkward, but Japan conveniently accompanied you. At first he scrambled his hands on your shoulders or on your waist, or just holding them. You lead him to the right dance pose as you two clumsily sway, "I'm sorry this is so, different."

"It's fine Japan, I'm surprised you wanted to dance," you felt his hand hovering on your waist, but slowly settles.

However, as soon as it did the tune is overturned by Spain's guitar once more, but instead of a hyper upbeat tone it continued being slow and romantic. America cuts in, "Hey!" He immediately grabs you and starts moving you across the room. Before you can ask him to slow down he let's you go into the arms of your original prince who had a rose in his mouth.

"Ivan," you look at America who directed a disgruntled Belarus to the opposite end of the dance floor. You reach for the rose, "What are you doing?"

"Being romantic? I'm sorry, Belarus still doesn't want to accept us yet," you place the rose in his vest pocket. "Don't worry I'm sure she will, Ukraine has."

His shoulders are still hard to reach, so you grip his arm and hold his extended hand, "I mean, I guess it's fine as long as she doesn't hurt me."

"No, she loves me too much to hurt you." He pulls you closer, "Although I fear her most of the time, I won't let her lay a hand on you," he kisses your forehead. "You look ravishing, kotyonok."

"You too."

"I am jealous how others got to dance with you first," his gaze shifts to your last dancers as he had a terrifying smile. You envelop your arms and hold his back as he holds your shoulders, "I've missed you." He unwraps himself, "Come."

You didn't realize that behind the buffet there are doors leading to a balcony. After grabbing his coat from his chair and placing it on you, he takes you outside to stare at the stars. Miles ahead you can see the lights of the Eiffel tower. You almost nuzzled your makeup on his shirt, but restrain yourself and intertwine your fingers with his.

"Are you staying in France after this?"

"No, I'm going to go back to America," you sadly say.

"Ah, I won't be visiting for a while," he takes your hands. "...You and America, have not-"

"No way," you sternly respond. "I know it looks, ugh, suspicious, especially if you follow his blog."

"I do."

"I promise we are just-" it's past the boss and assistant relationship. "Friends." He still displayed disbelief on his face and you pout, "I don't hug him like this." You envelop your arms and stared straight at him with your chin leaning on his chest. "Nor, do I kiss him, like this," you tilt you give light smacks on the cheek and feel the warmth on your lips. "Or this," you pulls his collar gently so you can peck his forehead and nose. His face is crimson as you leaned in to make your last mark, "Especially, not here." You're surprised he didn't try anything sneaky and just held your waist, as you two parted you hid your giggle. You left a trail of red kiss marks on his face. "Let's go inside!"

...

Gradually, the girls overtook a table and Hungary pulls you in to sit with them. Most of the boys went over to tease Russia over the trail you left on his face, "Oh! I see what you did on the balcony you naughty guy!" jeered America.

"Ah! How lovely she kissed your precious spots!" squealed France. "Did she also kiss down-"

England butted him out as Russia looked at them with confusion until he took a look through his phone. Everyone around him burst into laughter as Germany hands him one of the cloth napkins. "Oh, you two are adorable," says one girl. You cannot tell whether they were a country or not, and realized the table was not entirely composed of girls. One blonde girl with short hair and a ribbon sat close to a man with the same hairstyle. A trio sat in the corner probably enjoying the presence of girls.

"Oh, Russia looks so happy," Ukraine smiles to herself. "Doesn't he, Belarus?"

...

She took you apart from the crowd, sitting at at the table nearest to the corner with Ukraine. "Big brother, is a wonderful man," she starts. "I've always stuck by him, even when you wouldn't," she makes a quick glance at Ukraine. "The Russia you see, he is more than kind. He has blood on his hands, everyone does," she points starting at America, Japan, Germany, each of them. "But he had the most. An intimidating country, and the biggest threat towards most. I will always stick to him, no matter what others think of him, no matter which side he shows, can you do it too?"

"We'll see," you confidently respond, but can't picture Russia covered in blood. Nor can you see your friends with blank expressions, with dried blood on their uniforms, although you can accept that they have taken lives.

Ukraine jumps over her seat to hug you, you feel yourself suffocating in her cleavage, "W-Wait! My makeup!"

"Oh," she lets you go, "I'm sorry, I just am happy for both of you."

"This does not mean I like you," growled Belarus. "Ch, you'll wither anyways."

Ukraine began scolding her in Russian, seeing how the remark made you quiver. Belarus snaps back at her harshly as you sat between them, their voices growing louder and attracting attention. You didn't understand the conversation, but knew it is leading to no where good as Belarus pushes her chair back and stands up, looking as if she is about to lunge at Ukraine. You quickly rise as well, shielding Ukraine and putting your hands up, "W-Wait, let's calm down."

Belarus swung her arm, probably intending to push you away, but you instinctively grab her wrist. She yanks it out of your grip and cries out, "Don't touch me!" Her other arm wavered to strike you, but is taken by Russia from behind. "Big brother."

He restrained both her wrists and had a clear look of distress and rage. The entire room went silent as Russia takes Belarus out to the balcony, and all you can hear is Ukraine weeping softly. France began encouraging the band members to keep playing as soon as they stepped through the doors and tried lightening the mood the best he could. "Ukraine," you look back at the grown woman who bawled like a child.

"I know, I'm a bad big sister," she cried harder to the point where you knew you had to take her out as well.

"Come, let's go to a bathroom or something."

...

The second floor contained a lounge area next to a restaurant with glass windows revealing the night beauty of France. You sit on a couch facing the view, waiting for Ukraine to refresh herself in the bathroom. The seat is near the restaurant entrance and so you watch as couples make their exit giggling and latching on each other. Surprisingly, you see Prussia groggily step outside, "...Shit, I got lost." He sees you and his face brightens, "Ah, _! I'm saved!" He places his drunk bum next to you and side hugs you, "What are you doing down here?"

"Uhm, it's complicated," you look over his shoulder to see if Ukraine is coming. "Why don't you go back to everyone?"

He lifts a sleeve to check his watch, "Peh, the party is almost over, why bother?"

"What?" luckily Ukraine appeared from the restroom corner. "Are you okay now Ukraine?"

Prussia's face grew redder seeing her chest since she doesn't attempt to hide them, "Yes, I think I can go up now. Thank you."

You pull Prussia by the ear, "Let's go."

...

Belarus sat at her original seat and Russia stood at your table chatting with America. Ukraine avoids eye contact and sits next to Austria this time as you touch Russia's back, "Ah, kotyonok."

 _He seems normal._

"Hey, are you and Bela-"

"It's fine, the matter settled itself," he glances at Ukraine. You cock an eyebrow at America and he responds with a shrug, and a "go with it" look. "I'm sorry, you had to experience that."

...

The evening ended smoothly with one last toast from France and a shout of mixed languages saluting Valentine's Day. To your surprise, you receive gifts of chocolate from Italy, Germany and Japan. France also, but he gave after party gifts to everyone of his guests and as he greeted everyone hello, he departed them with a goodbye. Russia stood ahead of you and see him help Belarus and his boss into a slick black car with tinted windows. However, he did not step inside, but approach you and America while you two waited for your valet to fetch the car.

You give America a questioning look, "What?" He hands Russia the keys, "I have late business with a couple of guys," he begins motioning towards France, and those who did not leave. "And if yo going to do the hanky panky close the door!" he teases.

"What?" the valet opens the passenger side door for you. "What?" you ask again and see Russia in the driver's seat.

"Fucking go with it!" yells America.


	10. Chapter 10 (Possibly Final)

[This chapter is rated M.]

You eagerly swipe your hotel key through and switch the lights on revealing the mess you have made over the course of yesterday. Your luggage is open with panties and bras sticking out of the clothes pile. It'd be fine if they at least blended in, but they are bright and colorful through your dark wardrobe. Your blanket is in a crumpled mess as well with four pillows randomly placed on the bed. There are two beds in the room, but this was your half. You explained to Russia how you and America share connected rooms, but have doors. If you closed your own, only you can open it since your side has the handle and his won't. The same with him. You sigh with immense relief as you kicked your heels off next to your luggage which you also shut as Russia motions to the neat pillowless bed.

"So, you gonna sleep here? Or America's room?" you begin selecting clothes to wear for sleep.

"Here of course," he replies joyfully.

"You got any clothes?" he smiles and you sigh, "Let's see if America kept his door open. Luckily, he did and his room is just as messy as yours. You kick open his bright pink suitcase and dig through his plain shirts. You return with a white shirt, "I hope he-" as soon as you look up you run back into America's room. "S-Sorry!" you walked into Russia in his black trunks as he started unbuttoning his shirt. "Are you done?" you peek and jump back when he stuck his head in at the same time. You push the shirt on his bare chest avoiding to look down. "I-I'll go search for pants for you."

"I don't need them," he takes the shirt and you walk past him, grab your clothes and towel and go straight to the bathroom.

...

Ruffling out of the red dress and washing off the layers of makeup returned you to your casual self. Loose black pants and an over-sized grey shirt that read "Rebel" in white letters. Glasses completed the look and you step outside while drying your hair to find Russia all snuggled up in your bed with the pillows arranged. Two for you and two for him. Seeing you are finished he scoots closer to the wall and pats the empty space. Defeated, you sit down and continue squeezing the water from your hair into the towel and whip out a can feel him watching you as you brushed the tangles out and started braiding your hair. Suddenly, you feel a finger sliding from below and up your spine. The immediate response is your back curving to the touch and Russia's low chuckling.

"You're not wearing a bra."

"Should I put one on?!" you feel strong hands grab your stomach.

"Noo," whined Russia.

You turn to him and he lifts the blanket for you to crawl in. Inside you can see his boxers and a lump, why is there a lump. You begin thinking about that song, _my mind's telling me no._ You stare at his chest and the inviting expression he had on. _BUT MY BODY, MY BODY IS TELLING ME YES._

You roll inside as he puts his arm and the blanket around you. You press your head under his chin and snuggle, brushing your nose against his neck, and inhaling his natural scent. You plant a kiss on it as he cups your cheek and takes a huge whiff of the top of your head. You had no idea what to say as you kept your legs from nearing his...area. You also refused to turn around and have your butt exposed. You take one pillow from your side and hug it, feeling safe as you stuffed it between your waist and his. He pouts, "Is it too early to do naughty things?"

"Yes," you say sternly. Yet you feel his hand slip under your shirt, touching your side. "Russ-"

"Can I at least touch you?" he used those eyes again. He kisses your forehead and you lean back against his neck feeling his hands roam your back and your stomach. "Can I see?"

You dig your head in the pillow, "They aren't as big as Ukraine's..."

"That doesn't matter, as long as their yours."

You slowly sit up and nervously pull the shirt up, exposing your chest for about five seconds and then lifting it down. "There, you saw them." Your face grew warm as you feel his hand glide underneath and cup your right breast. You held his wrist, and attempted to move it, but he stubbornly kept his hand latched on it. He sits up with a pink face, looming over you.

"Can you hold your shirt up?" you do so, and felt your breathing increase and your heart pound as he stared fixedly. You look away when you saw his face inching forward, knowing he is going for it. It felt wet and feel his tongue fumbling against your bud, but you couldn't bring yourself to moan, but giggle. "What?"

"Nothing," you clear your throat.

"I don't have experience in this," he shies away and puts your shirt down. His cute flustered expression shot an arrow through your heart, making you want to take the lead.

"We can...work on it?" you press his back against the cushioned bed frame and sit between his legs, facing him. You cross yours around his waist, but don't heave yourself on top. It started as a peck on the lips, the second time they locked, and then the third time he summoned the courage to stick his tongue inside. It was sloppy, as you two parted a line of saliva kept you two connected. Again, it began feeling more natural. His hands slid against your back as you begin pressing your chest against his. He surprises you by grabbing your butt, drawing you on his crotch.

 _There's definitely a lump._

Your crotches grind for the first time and you quiver as he took control of your hips, moving them along with his. You bite your lips to hide your moan as you lean on his shoulder, and stare at his lustful face. He seemed in a trance, not even noticing he is letting out soft groans. His face of pleasure is too much to ignore and not tease. You start moving your pelvis on your own, holding his shoulders, and he throws his head back as you two find the rhythm. You haven't noticed how sweaty he has gotten, probably because he was doing the work first. He leans his sweaty, hot forehead on your shoulder and encases his arms around your waist tightly. The pace sped up and got rougher that you no longer can hold back the noise hidden in your throat. About twenty seconds later he breaks the contact between your crotches and you see him shudder and make short, but loud groans.

He stares into your eyes with a soaked face, saliva glistening on his lips, and an indulged expression. "Did you...?" he nods and hides his face.

"Was that too soon?"

You kiss his cheek and smooch his lips, "No."

"Did you?"

"...Maybe," he chuckles and rubs your cheek. You hear a door open, but hear a huge thump against yours since it is shut. "America?"

He slurs back, "Are ya'll doing the do?!"


End file.
